


The Secret Ingredient is Love

by Gort, lazyfish



Series: SIiL-verse [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And baking puns, Background Relationships, Background TripDaisy - Freeform, Baking Competition, F/M, Getting Back Together, Misuse of pears, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ward gets metaphorically punched, background Pipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Lance Hunter is a war veteran still dealing with the ghosts of his past. Bobbi Morse is a high-powered lawyer with more ambition than she knows what to do with. They’re also divorced - kind of. When they both clinch spots on the first season of All-Star Baker, sparks fly. Surrounded by baking and memories of their shared past, they begin to reconnect and find their time apart has changed them both. Ten weeks later, they end up winning more than just a competition.A collaboration between Gort and Lazyfish.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Al: Have you seen Bakeoff? It would make a fun Huntingbird fic.  
Elle: No! *2938748329 viewings of Bakeoff later* MUST WRITE ABOUT PIE AND HUNTINGBIRD.  
Al: >:)
> 
> Odd chapters by Gort, even chapters by Lazyfish!

“Hi!”

Hunter looked up from his phone and peered over the head of the grinning, dark-haired girl in front of him, making sure that nitwit wielding a makeup brush hadn’t spotted his hiding place as well. Not that it was much of a hiding place, but at least the age of the building meant there were more nooks and crannies available than in some posh hotel, if not the amenities. Whoever had described show business as glamorous had obviously never been a part of it. 

“Hey,” he responded, locking his phone screen. “They herding us out?”

“Not yet, we’re waiting for one more.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Great. We hadn’t even started filming yet and someone’s already pulling a diva routine. I bet they’re an absolute nightmare.”

The girl laughed, her nose wrinkling, and stuck out her hand. “Daisy.”

She was cute as a button and clearly knew it. In another lifetime, before his preferences had been attuned to statuesque blondes with a penchant for ripping his heart out, he might have turned on the charm. Now, though he was just anxious to get this damn thing started so he could concentrate on anything but the hollowness in his chest.

“Hunter.” He shook her hand and shoved his phone in his back pocket. 

He might as well scope out the competition while he had time. And it would keep him from texting Bobbi about someone finally appreciating him since he was one of the privileged few chosen to compete in the premiere of _All-Star Baker_. He really didn’t want to break his streak of not texting her since the damn divorce papers had arrived last week. He’d taken one look at them, shoved them in a drawer, and stayed up until four in the morning, making cakes. Thank god he had this contest to distract from the absolute disaster that was his personal life, even if Idaho was being insufferably smug about Hunter’s acceptance in the first place. 

Entering a national baking contest probably hadn’t really been what his therapist had in mind when he’d encouraged Hunter to do something with his favorite hobby besides using it to combat insomnia, but Idaho had been relentless, emailing him links to the damn _All-Star_ application every day for three weeks until Hunter had finally given in. At least that also meant Idaho couldn’t be mad about Hunter taking some personal time, even though that left more work for everyone else in their department at the VA. Plus, as Dr. Garner was fond of reminding him, dealing with his own PTSD would only make his job easier. 

“So, you’re into baking, huh?” Daisy tilted her head, eyeing him critically.

“Not sure why else I’d be here.”

“You just don’t look like someone who bakes.”

“Well, I am.” Hunter shifted, trying to ignore the weight of the phone in his pocket. It stung that Bobbi hadn’t texted him, either, not since he’d signed for the delivery of the paperwork that meant the official end of everything they’d had together. The end of them. It still felt surreal, even though she’d moved out months ago. 

“Yeah, I got that.” Daisy laughed again, and Hunter began to get a bit suspicious. Who the hell was this perky all the time? “What do you do when you’re not baking?”

“Why, are you looking for blackmail material?”

“Ooh, that would be cool, right? Doing a little espionage to throw everyone off their game?” She spun around and squished into the alcove beside him, peering out at the other bakers. “What do you think that guy is hiding?” She pointed at a clean-cut man with a ramrod-straight posture and a face that was generically attractive in a way that would never stick in people’s minds. “I think he said his name was Grant.”

Hunter glanced over at her, amused despite himself. “Something sinister, no doubt.”

“Totally,” Daisy agreed. “Anyone who looks that normal has at least one deep, dark secret.”

“Good thing my soon-to-be-ex-wife isn’t here, she’d give him a run for his money. Her soul is black all the way down.”

Daisy lifted her eyebrows. “Um, sorry?”

There was a commotion by the front doors, and someone with a clipboard and a headset rushed in, gesturing at the makeup girl. “Finally,” Hunter said. “Let’s get this shite star…oh, buggering fuck.” His stomach plummeted to his shoes and he blinked several times, hoping he was just hallucinating.

“Hunter?” Daisy waved a hand in front of his face. “I know she’s smoking hot, but I don’t think I can hold you up if you swoon.”

He shook his head, unable to believe this was really happening. “What the hell does the universe have against me?”

“Are you often cursed to work in close proximity with hot women? Because I might need to hang out with you more often.”

“It’s Bobbi.” Hunter sighed, resigned, as Bobbi submitted to the attentions of the makeup girl. Not that she needed any help looking fucking gorgeous. So much for this being a pleasant distraction from his cratered marriage. “My wife. Ex-wife. Almost-ex. What the hell is she doing here?” 

***

This was a mistake.

Bobbi knew, the moment she’d caught sight of Hunter, that she really should have listened the first dozen times she’d tried to talk herself out of accepting a spot on this damn show. It’d been a bitch to get the time off, for one thing. Her boss was still angry with her, and she was going to end up with all the worst clients when she went back. She hadn’t spoken to her father since he’d accused her of trying to sabotage her career. She’d applied to _All-Star Baker_ on a whim, confident they’d never choose her, while the pain of her disastrous marriage was still fresh and provoking her into doing idiotic things.

But the joke was on her.

They were currently lined up in pairs, ready to march across the lawn to the enormous, gaudily-colored, red-white-and-blue tent, and Bobbi couldn’t stop staring at the back of Hunter’s head. She’d been meaning to text him about this stupid contest for weeks but it had just been easier to concentrate on work, getting lost in other people’s problems, instead of trying to put into words how much of this unexpected chance she owed to him. 

She’d decided on the plane that she’d just tell him after filming was done. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d sent him the divorce papers and she knew he needed time to process things, so she hadn’t wanted to push. But now, here he was, and any explanation she had to offer was going to sound like an excuse. 

A couple of rows ahead of her, a bubbly, dark-haired girl was regaling Hunter with a story, her hands flying around. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Bobbi’s gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. He looked good. Much better than he had any right to when she’d made up her mind to give him up. 

He turned away, redirecting his attention to the petite woman beside him, and smiled. Something inside Bobbi twisted, and she averted her eyes, angry with herself. She’d been the one to ask for the divorce, after one too many fights about her priorities and his habit of trying to fix everything except his own problems, but did he have to flirt right in front of her like this?

The man next to her leaned in, his tropical-print shirt a shade of neon that made her squint. “Nervous?” he asked conspiratorially.

“What?” Bobbi asked. “Oh, about the baking. Yeah, sure.”

“Phil,” the guy said with an easy smile, holding out his hand. “You missed the introductions earlier.”

“Bobbi,” she replied, briefly shaking his hand.

“The ones up front are Piper and Jemma, behind them are Fitz and, uh,” Phil’s brow furrowed. “Graham, I think? Or maybe Grant. That’s Trip,” He pointed to the third row of bakers, “Next to Elena, and behind her is Daisy and Lance.”

“Hunter,” Bobbi corrected automatically.

“What’s that?”

“He prefers Hunter,” Bobbi said, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Did you guys meet on the flight out or something?”

Bobbi sighed. No way had the show’s producers had missed the fact that she’d listed Hunter as her ex-husband in the background information packet and then put his name all over her emergency contact forms. He’d probably done the same since he didn’t have any family in the States. There was a zero percent chance their past relationship was going to remain a secret.

“He’s my ex.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s…huh.” He was quiet for a long minute while Bobbi wondered if it was too late to make a break for it. Filming hadn’t started yet. Maybe she could pretend there was an emergency at work. Hunter would inadvertently back her up by making some loud, obnoxious comment about her being married to her job and she could make her escape instead of embarrassing herself in front of millions of people. “So, are you a fan of Melinda or Robbie?”

Bobbi relaxed. God bless him, Phil was changing the subject. “Melinda,” she said. They started moving toward the front doors, and Bobbi’s last chance to escape slipped away as they stepped into the bright sunshine.

“Me too,” Phil said, beaming. “I applied as soon as they announced she was one of the judges. Do you think she likes coconut?”

“Um.” Bobbi squinted against the sunshine as the tent loomed up in front of them. “Probably?”

The next few minutes were a blur as everyone was directed to their baking stations, tried not to trip over the camera people swarming around like bees, and took stock of each other and the equipment in front of them. There were fridges ringed around the sides of the tent, and everyone had a state-of-the-art mixer in a twee color on their countertops. Phil ended up across the aisle from her, and Hunter was, of course, put directly behind her. Shit. They were doing this on purpose, weren’t they?

“Hey.” The guy in front of her reached out, offering his hand, and Bobbi’s eyebrows lifted as she realized she had to look up to make eye contact. That didn’t happen often. “Mack,” he said.

“Bobbi,” she returned, shaking his hand.

“Don’t worry, the first week is always a gimmie. We just gotta keep our heads.” He gave her an easy smile and for a second, Bobbi almost felt confident. “Been baking long?”

She heard Hunter snort, and Mack’s eyes flicked behind her. “Not very,” Bobbi admitted. “I picked up most of it from my ex, actually. He wasn’t bad in the kitchen.”

Mack grinned. “Not so great in other areas, huh?”

Bobbi pressed her lips together as Hunter made an indignant noise and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “That’s him.”

Mack’s eyes went wide, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cool. Hunter, right?” He directed the question to the man behind her.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “And I excel in all rooms of the house, thank you very much. Although apparently, that’s not enough for some people.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Hunter, please, not now.”

“What the hell are you even doing here?” he hissed, lowering his voice.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and her eyes got stuck on the way his forearms were flexing as he leaned over the counter towards her. Dammit. Her libido seriously needed to stop reminding her what she’d been missing the last few months. “Same as you, Hunter.”

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, making sure some rich wanker stays rich or whatever? You never take time off!”

“Well, I did for this,” Bobbi said, facing front again. Mack was leaning back against his baking station, his arms folded and his eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t even take time off for our honeymoon!”

“Honeymoon?” Daisy appeared beside Mack.

“Well, maybe if my ex-husband hadn’t kept suggesting we go places with no cell service, we would have,” Bobbi said.

“Excuse me,” Hunter said, and she could just picture the superior face he was making. “I haven’t signed a damn thing yet, so technically, we’re still married, love.”

“Don't call me that!”

“Maybe you should try going on a honeymoon before you get divorced?” Daisy suggested, sounding hopeful.

“What do you say, Bob, care to join me in Siberia? You should feel right at home in a frozen wasteland.”

Bobbi dropped her head on her hand. “Hunter -”

“Good morning, bakers!” A cheerful voice said. A man in a sharply tailored but ridiculously patterned shirt entered the tent, beaming. Daisy scurried back to her bench across the room and Bobbi squared her shoulders, ignoring the weight of Hunter’s glare. “I’m Joey, and I’ll be co-hosting with Izzy. You’ll be seeing a lot of us since our job is to help you forget about the cameras. Just remember, most of this footage isn’t going to make it to air, so you concentrate on baking and we’ll do the rest through the magic of editing. We’re filming two bakes today, and the third tomorrow morning so you can catch your flights home. Now, who’s ready to get started?”

***

Christ, the tent was a damned sauna. 

Hunter dragged a towel over his face, tossed it to the floor so he wouldn’t use it again, and peered through the little window in his oven. So far, the second bake was going alright. He was going to have to pull the cake out a little earlier than he’d like to make sure it had enough time to cool, but it was just about the golden color he was looking for. This was the technical challenge, which meant everyone was making the same cake, unlike what they’d done this morning. 

Their first bake, where they’d been asked for sheet cakes, had been fine. Hunter had managed to bake a chocolate cake without screwing up royally, which was really the only thing he was aiming for right now. The last thing he wanted was to get kicked out the first week because he’d botched the basics. The guy behind him, Davis, had added some elaborate, piped design to his carrot cake and had then gotten absolutely reamed by Robbie and Melinda for underwhelming flavors.

Now they were working on angel food cakes, and while there’d been some bantering and joking earlier, this afternoon everyone was all business, and the tent was mostly quiet. 

He stood up just in time to catch Bobbi muttering, “Shit, shit, shit,” under her breath. Leaning over his counter, he watched her for a minute, enjoying the sight of her hair escaping of her ponytail and the flour streaked across her bum. She looked messy in a way he hadn’t seen since they’d first started dating, back when she’d let herself sleep late, and had spent hours in the kitchen with him, experimenting with spices and getting it wrong at least half the time. They’d had a hell of a lot of fun before she’d gotten all tied up in knots over her career. And, fine, maybe he wasn’t the easiest person to live with, but before she’d let those idiots at her firm run her ragged they’d been doing just fine.

That Bob was at least half the reason he hadn’t signed the damn divorce paperwork yet. He kept hoping she was in there, somewhere, and if he pushed just the right buttons, she’d come back. He definitely hadn’t expected her to appear on a baking show though, that was a new one on him. He’d always had to coax her into baking more than biscuits, and never imagined it was something she’d carry on doing alone.

She stood up, and he didn’t avert his eyes quite fast enough to keep her from catching him staring. “What?” she said, hands on her hips.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked. 

She made a face. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I imagine a devil’s food cake would have been more up your alley.” He grinned. Over her shoulder, Hunter watched Mack slowly shaking his head while whisking together the lemon icing for their cakes.

“Eyes on your own cake, Hunter.” Bobbi’s eyes flashed in the way that always made his blood run hot, and he deliberately straightened up and made a show of starting his icing, watching her under his lashes. Two spots of pink graced her cheeks, and he had to admit, even though it almost hurt to look at her, it was still good to see her.

“How everything going?” Izzy, one of the hosts, leaned a hip against Bobbi’s counter and smiled, her eyes flicking to Hunter in warning. Right, they were supposed to keep this family-friendly. He liked Izzy. She’d mentioned a background in law enforcement prior to this gig, and he could still see it in the way she carried herself. She wasn’t about to put up with any nonsense from him, and he could respect that. 

He gave her an apologetic grin before he turned his full attention to his icing, listening with half an ear as Izzy coaxed a story out of Bob about the first time she’d had Angel food cake, apparently at a childhood birthday party, with a nearby cameraman trying his best to be unobtrusive. The way Bobbi talked about the accompanying strawberries and cream had Hunter mentally making a shopping list for her next birthday, because he’d have to be dead to pass up that opportunity, before remembering that wasn’t something they were supposed to do anymore—celebrate birthdays together.

Frowning at his icing, he zested a lemon with a bit more force than necessary and tuned out Bobbi’s voice, trying to ignore the pit forming in his stomach. The timer for his cake went off, and Hunter pulled it out of the oven, crossing his fingers that it was done enough to hold its shape.

“Aw, man,” Davis groaned behind him. “Yours looks way better than mine.”

Hunter eyed the cake Davis had cooling on the counter, which seemed perfectly fine. “Think as long as it’s risen, they’ll be happy,” Hunter said. 

“That’s true,” Davis said, examining his cake. 

Bobbi glanced back, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and Hunter valiantly pretended not to notice. They hadn’t explicitly been told they couldn’t help the other bakers, and he imagined it was rather poor form to skew the results, but he’d always been bad at resisting Bobbi when she was making that face. Dropping his eyes, he whisked his icing harder.

last few minutes of the challenge practically flew by, with Hunter growing increasingly twitchy watching Bobbi stumble from one disaster to the next. Her cake had come out of the oven and almost immediately deflated, throwing her off her game, and now she was behind on everything else. He gripped the counter, white-knuckled, as she spent last minute of the challenge cursing and struggling to get her lopsided cake with its too-drippy icing and sad lemon curls on the plate. Some of her more creative expletives were ones he normally used, which probably shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did. 

The second that time was called, Bobbi sank down to the floor, disappearing between their counters, and Mack peered over, catching Hunter’s eye just as the faintest sniffling noise came from where she was sitting.

Oh, fuck.

If it was one thing Bobbi hated more than losing, it was letting her emotions slip out where people could see them. One of the other bakers, Jemma, started towards her with a concerned look on her face, but Hunter shook his head firmly. Jemma stopped, wringing her hands, as Izzy and Joey began ushering everyone out of the tent. “We’ll call you back in a little while,” Joey said cheerfully. “After the judging.”

Quietly creeping around his baking station, Hunter slid down beside Bobbi, his back against the counter, and leaned over so their shoulders were pressed together. She was hunched over, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried against her knees. “Go away,” she said, her voice muffled.

“No.”

She huffed loudly but leaned into him a little more, and Hunter bit back a grin as he slid an arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. Slowly, she began to uncurl, turning her head to bury it against his shoulder instead of her knees. “I blew it,” she mumbled.

“No, you didn’t,” Hunter said, leaning his cheek against the crown of her head. She smelled like lemons and sugar and the underlying tang of Bobbi that had lingered in the house for far too short a time after she’d left.

Daisy walked by with Trip and gave Hunter a thumbs up, her face worried. He nodded back and she smiled tentatively as Izzy shooed her along. The other baker’s voices faded, and Bob let out a sigh, stretching her long legs out in front of her and adjusting her head until she found her favorite spot against his shoulder. God, he’d missed her.

“No, I truly, sincerely fucked up. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, please,” Hunter snorted. “One bad cake and you’re throwing in the towel? Since when did you give up that easily?”

Bobbi let out something that might have been a laugh. “I did put up with you for a lot longer.”

“Damn right you did.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the camera people hovering nearby and he reached up to brush a strand of Bobbi’s hair back, covering her face while she pulled herself together. She’d spit nails if they tried to paint her as some tearful chit on the show. 

Izzy appeared, leaning on the end of a nearby baking station, and Hunter tensed before he realized she’d effectively just blocked the camera shot. She winked at him, and then propped her chin on her hand and stared out of the tent, ignoring them.

“That might be the worst cake I’ve ever made,” Bobbi said, gesturing toward her counter.

“Really?” Hunter snorted. “Because I can think of several worse ones. Remember the mint and grapefruit fiasco?”

Bobbi elbowed him. “That was your fault. I asked for lemon extract.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Ugh.” Bobbi sat up all the way, and Hunter reluctantly withdrew his arm, trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling up in his chest. He had a drawer full of paperwork at home that told him just how eager she was to be rid of him. “Only one more day, right?” 

“Just one. And then next weekend, and the one after that, and -”

Bobbi laughed. “I appreciate the optimism.”

“Anytime.” Hunter let his head rest against the counter as she stood and then offered him a hand up. He took it, surprised, and let her haul him up off the floor. His knee twinged like it always did, but that was easy to ignore when Bobbi was smiling at him.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Hunter rocked back on his heels and tucked his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again. “Welcome.”

***

“Shit,” Bobbi sighed, collapsing against her counter. 

At least day two was going slightly better than day one. Although it wasn’t like she could do worse than coming last in the technical like she had yesterday. She stared at the piles of cupcakes around her and tried to remember which frosting she had planned for each one, feeling like each second that passed was a second closer to her being sent home. Picking up a piping bag, she pulled a bowl closer and retrieved a spatula, glancing at Mack, who was hunched over his station squeezing tiny frosting hearts onto the cutest bite-sized cupcakes she’d ever seen.

“Those are adorable, Mack,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder, looking pleased. “Thanks.”

She straightened up, stretching, and took a minute to survey the room, wondering how far behind she was. Phil was hacking away at a pineapple, wearing his ridiculously bright Hawaiian shirt and presumably creating yet another tropical concoction as wild as his outfit.

Daisy was bent over her counter, concentrating on whatever she was carefully piping onto the top of her cupcakes, which were a gorgeous muted red color. Behind her, Piper had her chin propped on her hand and seemed to be alternating between reading her baking notes and staring at Daisy’s butt.

Several of the other bakers were still mixing their frostings, which made Bobbi relax a fraction. Good, maybe she wasn’t as far behind as she thought.

She started to turn back to her cupcakes when she caught Hunter watching her out of the corner of her eye. Turning fully, Bobbi raised her eyebrows and he guiltily lifted his gaze, shrugging. 

“It’s been a while,” he said.

“Since you’ve seen a butt?”

“Since I’ve seen your butt,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t as charming as you think you are, you know.”

“Ah, but you admit I am charming.”

“You’re impossible.” Bobbi spun back around, ignoring the chuckling behind her, and concentrated on finishing her cupcakes. Considering she hadn’t even wanted to be here, she found herself surprisingly determined to make it through this round. Her Angel food cake might have been an absolute disaster, but Robbie had liked her tiramisu sheet cake, and Melinda had almost smiled, which was an occasion so rare it was rumored that whoever earned one was a shoo-in to be named All-Star Baker that week. As long as she didn’t totally blow this last bake, she might survive. She’d better survive. Getting eliminated the first week would be completely embarrassing. 

“Does everyone have their cupcakes out of the oven?” Davis said from his spot behind Hunter, his voice carrying. “I think something’s burning.”

Piper gasped and dropped down behind her baking station. “Shit, shit, shit!” Daisy spun around in alarm and Bobbi’s eyes widened as Piper set a tray of blackened cupcakes on top of her counter. “Oh, fuck,” she groaned, dropping her head on her arms. “My timer didn’t go off!”

“Ten more minutes,” Izzy announced from the front of the tent. Bobbi caught the sympathetic glance the host sent in Piper’s direction, even though they probably weren’t supposed to play favorites. Piper groaned louder and Daisy rubbed her back. Bobbi went back to her icing, her heart rate kicking up, and concentrated on her finishing touches. 

The minutes passed in a blur of icing and anxiety, and then, unbelievably, it was time for the last judging of the weekend. Bobbi found her eyes straying over to Hunter as Melinda and Robbie critiqued everyone’s cupcakes, praising Mack for his eye-catching decorations and Daisy for her flavors. Hunter looked tired but relaxed. Maybe her leaving had been good for him after all. 

Bobbi’s stomach dropped at the thought and she averted her eyes. 

No, it was good for both of them, she reminded herself. He’d mentioned he’d started seeing a therapist, which was a first for him, and she had all the time she needed for her job now. Mostly because she had no life outside of it, but that would change someday. Maybe. Hopefully. She hated to admit it, but it was kind of a relief not to be at the beck and call of the office. 

Piper’s cupcakes didn’t fare well, and Bobbi winced as Melinda picked up one burned cupcake, examined it, and then dropped it to the tray without a word. Hunter’s expressionless face during his judging gave away how worried he was, though Bobbi supposed she was the only one who would know that. To everyone else, he looked cool at a cucumber. His cupcakes were declared just fine, even though she knew he was capable of remarkable. 

Then it was her turn. 

“Not bad,” was Melinda’s pronouncement. “Nice and neat.” 

“Good flavor,” Robbie agreed. 

All Bobbi wanted was to collapse with relief when it was over, but Izzy herded them to the front of the tent. She arranged them in a long line facing the judges while the cameras swooped in to capture their faces. Bobbi felt like she was being prepped for a firing squad. 

“Excellent work, everyone,” Joey said, stepping up beside Melinda and beaming happily. Squished between Phil and Mack, Bobbi fidgeted, more nervous than she’d expected to be, considering she almost hadn’t shown up at all. “Robbie and Melinda were impressed by your creativity and it’s been a lot of fun getting to know you.”

Mack leaned over. “She doesn’t look impressed,” he muttered under his breath, and Bobbi stifled a laugh. Melinda was gazing impassively at the bakers, dressed in a simple blouse and a pair of slacks with knife-sharp creases. She looked like one of the well-heeled clients Bobbi represented. With a hefty dose of luck, maybe Melinda May wouldn’t be as difficult to please as one of those clients. Glancing down the row of people, Bobbi spotted Hunter standing with his arms crossed, looking subdued. 

“Congratulations,” Joey was saying, and Bobbi joined everyone in clapping for Daisy, who had been awarded All-Star of the week.

Izzy stepped forward, her expression somber, and Bobbi held her breath. “Here we go,” Mack murmured. “Relax.”

“You relax,” Bobbi retorted, crossing her fingers for the first time in years.

“This week’s decision was difficult, and we hate to lose any of you.” Izzy met her eyes and Bobbi’s stomach dropped to her shoes, but then Izzy’s gaze shifted down the row of bakers.

“Piper,” she said, her tone somber. “We’re so sorry to see you go.” Piper’s face fell and Daisy flung herself at Piper, pulling her into a hug as Robbie and Melinda moved up to shake her hand.

Relief flooded through Bobbi, and she took a breath as Mack elbowed her side, grinning. “Told you,” he said.

“You did,” Bobbi said with a laugh. She watched the other bakers offer Piper their condolences, all looking as relieved as she was, as it slowly dawned on her that she’d actually done it. She’d made it through the first week, despite the shock of seeing her ex-husband and the disaster she’d had with her cake. Her eyes drifted to Hunter again. He caught her looking this time, and the smile he gave her made her stomach do a little flip. “Fuck,” she muttered.

“What?” Mack said.

“I just realized we have to do this again next week.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The bus jostled, and Hunter pitched forward with a groan. He had nodded off halfway through the ride from the airport, and almost slamming his head on the seat in front of him was not his favorite way to be woken up. He was also not a fan of the eleven bakers all being carted to the tent together in the bus - he much preferred when he got to drive himself. Apparently the hotel was undergoing renovation, though, so there wouldn’t be enough space for eleven vehicles. 

“Alright?” Fitz asked. 

Hunter nodded at the Scotsman as he straightened again. “Didn’t sleep well.” He was still getting used to an empty bed, and knowing he was going to see Bobbi again that weekend hadn’t helped.

“Have you tried drinking tea before bed?” Jemma chimed in, leaning forward from her seat behind Hunter and Fitz. “Valerian root has intense soporific properties, and the tea is delicious.”

“Hunter doesn’t drink tea.” Bobbi leaned back in her seat and Hunter shot her a glare. Both Jemma and Fitz looked like she had just announced he had murdered the Queen, horrified expressions contorting their faces.

“I don’t drink tea you make,” Hunter grumbled under his breath. It was already hard to play the part of the ornery not-quite-ex when Bobbi was smirking at him like that. No one heard what he said, though, because Fitz and Jemma were talking over each other, arguing about which tea blend would be most likely to make him enjoy drinking tea again.

Hunter sighed in relief when the bus screeched to a halt and he was able to leave behind Jemma and Fitz (they really needed a shared name, considering they had spent most of their time behind-the-scenes attached at the hip) and Bobbi. He forgot that meant walking straight into the arms of the bubbly redhead who had spent the entirety of the previous weekend chasing him around, begging to let her put on just a little more bronzer.

Phil was also being herded into a makeup chair by a similarly enthusiastic brunette, and he exchanged a grimace with Hunter as they both sat down.

“Nice shirt,” Hunter commented drily. He didn’t know how many Hawaiian shirts Phil owned, but he was fascinated to figure out where the man found them. Hunter had lived in America for the better part of five years and he had never seen a Hawaiian shirt in a store, ever.

“Thanks! Have you ever been to Tahiti?” Phil asked. He was forced to pause when the makeup woman began dusting foundation across his cheekbones, but when she pulled back, Phil grinned again. “It’s a magical place. Also where I got all these shirts.” Ah. Well that explained why Hunter had never seen one before.

“I can’t say I have. The missus -” Shit. He did not have a missus anymore. “Well, my almost-ex-wife wasn’t a big fan of taking vacations.” He couldn’t remember ever going on a vacation with Bobbi, which he should’ve expected when she suggested they skip a honeymoon.

“Bobbi?”

Right. Everyone knew Bobbi was his almost-ex-wife, because he was living in the circle of hell wherein his almost-ex-wife (who he still loved more than he should’ve) was on the same baking competition as him. It was a very specific circle of hell, one which had been designed especially for Hunter.

“Yeah. But why don’t you tell me more about Tahiti?”

\---

Bobbi was trying hard not to get distracted. She knew she had only barely made it through last week, and if she wanted to stay in the competition then she needed to do better. It was hard not to be distracted when Hunter was always _ there _. Even when he was across the room, her eyes were drawn to him in a way she couldn’t hope to describe or explain. 

She was occupying herself with watching Hunter talk to an enthusiastic Phil about something when someone plopped down beside her. Bobbi’s eyes flicked over to see who it was, and she suppressed a sigh when she saw Daisy. Daisy was on Hunter’s side. Not that they had sides! But if they did, she was confident Daisy would be on Hunter’s.

“Hi?”

“Hey,” Daisy smiled. “Are you ready for this week?”

Bobbi blinked, still unsure of why exactly the other woman was talking to her. “I guess.”

Daisy nodded. “Cookies are hard, because they’re like, deceptively simple.” She blew out a breath. “But also _ really _ hard to do right. Which is why I guess people pass down family recipes and stuff, right?”

Bobbi’s lips twisted into a frown. Her family wasn’t the recipe-having type, so all of Bobbi’s so-called family recipes she had married into. She had also made a few herself with the intention of passing them down to whatever children she and Hunter had one day, but that was kaput now.

“Sorry,” Daisy whispered after a moment. “Not a good family situation?”

Bobbi nodded shortly. “Me neither,” Daisy responded, reaching over to pat Bobbi’s hand. “But hey, we don’t need family recipes to kick ass, do we?”

“No, we don’t.” Daisy had to stop talking then because someone came to adjust her lip color, and Bobbi was left to ruminate over the short but telling conversation. She felt like kind of an asshole for resenting Daisy for being so close to Hunter.

Their talk had brought up something she had almost forgotten: She needed to get Hunter to sign the divorce papers. Not because she was in a hurry to get married to someone else or anything, but because she wanted it to be done with. A clean break, so they could both get on with their lives.

Of course, the show had kind of ruined the ‘clean break’ thing.

Hunter finished in makeup, and when he turned to face her, Bobbi almost growled. Whoever had done his makeup obviously had no idea how to flatter his face, and there was bronzing powder caught in his stubble. She had half a mind to go fix it herself, but before she could talk herself into or out of any decision, Daisy was already on her feet, bouncing over to Hunter.

That was good. Now Bobbi didn’t have to worry cradling Hunter’s face in her hands would cause her to slip back into old habits. One of the makeup artists coming over to her and cooing over her complexion, or her eyes, or something. Bobbi wasn’t listening hard - she didn’t enjoy being told how pretty she was by people who didn’t have annoyingly cute dimples and stupid British accents.

When she was done in makeup, Hunter and Daisy had already been absconded to the lineup, along with most of the other bakers. Bobbi was led to the back of the line, and she ignored the way the itch in her fingers subsided upon seeing Hunter was talking to Trip and not Daisy.

Elena was the last person to get out of makeup, jogging into place beside Bobbi. They didn’t have time to do anything other than greet each other before they were cued to march into the tent. God, Bobbi hated that thing. They could’ve just had a regular tent, but no, it _ had _ to look like Uncle Sam had puked on it.

At least once she was inside she didn’t have to look at the damned thing. They had mixed up the locations of the baking stations, which was nothing short of a miracle. Last week she hadn’t been able to concentrate knowing Hunter was staring at her ass the whole time.

Bobbi didn’t have too much time to celebrate, though, because now instead of being behind her, Hunter was across the way, in prime position to see everything she was doing, with no way for her to block his line of sight. Bobbi wasn’t the praying type, but she said a quick prayer things would go alright anyways.

Praying didn’t seem to get her far. When she went to tie her apron Bobbi couldn’t get her fingers to work properly, and none other than her almost-ex was the first person to realize she was having problems getting the knot right.

Hunter appeared behind her and took the strings from her hands, looping them in a neat knot. 

“Army finally did me some good,” Hunter joked as he knotted the neck string of her apron as well. He was devilishly quick at fiddly bits like knots and buttons - and he was just as good at undoing them as he was at doing them. Bobbi suppressed a shiver as the tips of his fingers brushed along the nape of her neck, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was still unfairly attracted to him.

“You alright?” Trip’s smooth voice filled her ears, and Bobbi blinked. “You went kind of,” Trip waved his hand in front of his face to signify her apparent spaciness.

“Yeah, of course.” Bobbi managed a smile. “Just got distracted.”

“Distracted, right.” Trip gave her a knowing smile, and Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. Trip seemed like someone to watch; he had baked the best angel food cake last week. She had baked the worst - not that she wanted to dwell on her failure. Either way, Trip was an amazing baker, and from what Bobbi had seen, an even more amazing person.

Why couldn’t she have married someone like Trip? Instead of stupid Hunter, who… was an amazing baker and an amazing person who acted like an asshole because he was too sensitive for his own good. Damnit. 

“Alright, bakers!” Joey clapped his hands as he swept into the tent, Izzy following behind him at a more sedate pace. “In case you’ve forgotten, same drill as last week. Two bakes today, one tomorrow, and you’ll stay at the hotel the night between. Again, most of this footage won’t be used, and…”

\---

Bobbi was making chocolate chip cookies. Hunter knew this because he could smell them, and it was making his heart skip beats like crazy. He couldn’t remember how many times he had come home to the exact same smell and Bobbi waiting for him in the kitchen with a smile on her face. Even when things were bad, if there was a warm cookie in his hand, he could pretend they were okay. Sitting with Bobbi at the kitchen table with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk between them, he could remember she loved him, and he loved her.

Hunter missed it so much it hurt. 

His biscuits - gingersnaps, his mum’s recipe - were in the oven, and they didn’t have any sort of frosting, so he had no distraction from the intensifying smell of brown sugar and chocolate drifting over from Bobbi’s station.

“Hey.” Daisy hopped up onto the counter of his station, and Hunter dragged his gaze away from Bobbi to look at her. “Grant is being super creepy and I think you’re the only one who intimidates him. Well, you and Mack. What is up with you guys all going by your last names, by the way? I mean, I get it because Alphonso is the worst name ever, but…” Daisy shrugged her shoulders.

“I spent so much time in the Army I forgot my first name,” Hunter deadpanned. He also thought the name Lance made him sound like a twat, but at least it wasn’t Alphonso.

“Well, you’re not in the army anymore.” Daisy cocked her head to the side.

“No, but I work for the VA,” Hunter answered. He wasn’t in the Army any more, technically, but he was still surrounded by people with military backgrounds. His best friend was a veteran and his co-workers were veterans. Bobbi was practically the only person in his life who hadn’t served. Even if he quit his job and moved away, though, not being in the Army wouldn’t mean his time didn’t still affect him. He still would have to go to therapy to tame the demons that plagued him - demons which would likely never disappear entirely.

Hunter decided it was better to ignore that lecture and get back to the point. “Honestly, most of it is that I went by Hunter when I met Bob, and since she calls me it, everyone else did, too.” It had been a ripple effect - everyone had seen his girlfriend calling him Hunter, assumed it was his preferred name, and started using it too. Then everyone was using it, and even if he had wanted to change it he probably wouldn’t have been able to. Never mind that Bobbi was the only one who could get away with calling him Lance.

“Why do you call her Bob?” Hunter was tempted to retort with a question about why Daisy was so nosy, but truthfully, Daisy was the only thing keeping him from moping so he probably needed to stay in her good graces.

“You’ve never been married, have you?” Hunter knew Daisy was too big of a flirt to ever have settled down with someone, but the rhetorical question helped him feel a little better, and dodge actually answering. He felt ridiculous admitting how much he liked having something just between him and his wife; she called him Lance, and he called her Bob. It was the way things were.

And now he was sad again. Great.

The timer on Daisy’s station beeped, and she hopped off the counter and ran off to check on her cookies. Hunter scrubbed a hand across his face and checked his own timer. Soon.

\---

Bobbi was on top of the world. Melinda had _ smiled _! Smiled at her! She had known her chocolate chip cookies were good, but she didn’t know they were Melinda May Smile good. After the cameras had stopped rolling the other bakers had gathered around to taste a bit of what had caused Melinda to smile, and Phil had asked her for her recipe.

Hunter hadn’t come to taste a cookie, though, and it felt like a lead weight in her stomach. He had choked down more than his fair share of inedible batches where she had switched salt and sugar or forgotten baking soda. Didn’t he deserve to taste the best batch she had ever made?

She marched over to his station and dropped a cookie, wrapped in a napkin, in front of him before she could lose her nerve. Hunter looked down at the cookie, then back up at her with a furrowed brow. Bobbi walked away before he could make some scathing comment, or worse, reject her olive branch.

Bobbi didn’t turn to see whether or not Hunter ate the cookie. It wasn’t important. What was important was doing better on this week’s technical challenge than she had last week. Honestly, Bobbi couldn’t think of any cookies that were really _ difficult _ to bake. Of course, that was always the thing - they would probably would be something she’d never heard of before in her life.

Melinda and Robbie exited the tent, and the bakers were given the recipe and the time limit. Bobbi flipped over her recipe sheet, and gaped.

Hunter laughed from across the aisle, and Bobbi heard Jemma gasp. The name of the recipe was written across the top in all capitals and bold face: JAMMIE DODGERS.

“Do you know what these are?” Trip asked under his breath.

Bobbi nodded. Hunter had consumed an ungodly amount of Jammie Dodgers across the course of their relationship, and she had eaten a few through the years, too. She hadn’t ever made them herself, but she knew what they were supposed to look like, which was an advantage over most people.

Her cookies were in the oven and her jam halfway to being set when Hunter wandered over to her station.

“Bet you’re glad you married me now, eh, love?” He asked. He was a hair’s breadth away from being in her personal space, but Bobbi had the inexplicable urge to step closer. 

Hunter also had a smear of jam on his lip, probably left over from tasting. _ Don’t kiss him _. 

“Yes, for the first time in your life you’re useful to me.” Hunter cringed away, and Bobbi ignored the jerk in her heart. “You have jam on your lip.”

Hunter turned, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Bobbi turned back to her oven, peering through the window to make sure her shortbread wasn’t burning. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by watching him walk away.

\---

Hunter just wanted to go to bed. Filming had continued long after the last bake had ended so everyone could give confessionals about the first two bakes of the day. Bobbi had taken ages to film her confessionals - probably, Hunter thought, because she couldn’t muster up enough emotion to satisfy the cameramen. It was hard to pretend to be happy when your heart was made of ice and stone.

He was finally in the hotel elevator, five minutes from the blessed solitude of his own room, when his hopes of being left alone were shattered.

“Bob.”

“Hunter.”

He was expecting the conversation to end with the curt greetings and the elevator door sliding shut. He was wrong.

“When are you going to sign the papers?”

Hunter’s mouth went dry, and he felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs. He had been doing a damn good job of continuing to ignore the divorce papers he had been served, so much so he almost forgot Bobbi was expecting him to sign them.

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Yes, we -”

The elevator shuddered, then stopped as the lights overhead went out, plunging them both into darkness.

“What the -?” Hunter breathed. Was this a prank? It seemed like the sort of thing Daisy would do. Hunter kept waiting for the lights to come back on and the elevator to start moving, but they remained in silent, still darkness.

Great.

Bobbi’s breathing was slow and steady, and Hunter focused on her rather than the rising panic in his chest. His claustrophobia had gotten much better over the years, but he couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be a little anxious about being stuck in an elevator with no idea why it had stopped. Except for Bob, of course, but she was barely human so it didn’t count.

Hunter forced himself to take a deep breath. He had learned breathing exercises for exactly this sort of situation, and it wouldn’t do to forget them when he really needed them. He breathed in, held it, and breathed out. Hunter wasn’t surprised anymore about how much better he felt after going through a round of the controlled breathing, but it was nice to know it actually worked in the crisis situations they were meant for.

“There’s no cell service.” Right. Hunter hadn’t thought to check the cell service - he had needed to get himself under control first. He didn’t want to have a full-out panic attack, even if Bobbi was one of the people who was best equipped to help him when one did occur.

“Why do you think…?”

“Not a clue.” Bobbi sighed, and Hunter heard a soft sound as she sat on the floor. He knelt down, too, wincing at the tug in his knee when he sprawled out and his foot knocked against Bobbi’s.

There was a buzzing sound, then the overhead lights came on. Hunter craned his neck to look at the light, hoping it signalled they were about to begin moving.

“Probably just an emergency generator,” Bobbi supplied. Another thing he should have been able to figure out on his own.

At least with the lights on he could try to get a read on Bobbi. “Kind of reminds you of old times, huh?” Hunter asked with a twinkle in his eye. They had had some fun times in stopped elevators - normally with markedly less clothing on.

Bobbi just sighed again. “Why won’t you sign them, Hunter?”

“Because I don’t want to!” He snapped, annoyed that she managed to make this about the divorce papers. “As much as it sucks to be in love with a she-demon who is incapable of normal human emotion, I _ am _, and I can’t stop that!” Hunter carded his hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just need more time, Bob. Not all of us can flush two years of marriage down the toilet as easily as you.”

He opened his eyes in time to see Bobbi cross her arms over her chest. “Not turning in the papers isn’t going to make the divorce disappear, Hunter. Stop sticking your head in the sand.”

Hunter wanted to scream, and maybe shake Bobbi. He knew the divorce wasn’t disappearing now, but there was a stupid, hopeful part of him which kept saying she was going to change her mind. She had to change her mind, didn’t she?

“I’ll get you the damn papers, Barbara. Just not this week.” It wasn’t like he carried them around with him. She’d have to wait until the next time they saw each other, at which point he could come up with an excuse to delay it another week.

He _ was _ going to give her the papers eventually. Just not when the wound was still bleeding.

There was another minute of silence, broken only by the buzzing of the light above them.

“Where did we go wrong, Bob?” Hunter tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. He didn’t want to see her face right now.

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be here.” Wasn’t that the beginning and the end of it all? Hunter had been miserable before, and he was miserable now. They were just different kinds of misery. He heaved out a sigh. What sucked was that they could list the factors that led to their divorce, but neither of them knew what the final nail in the coffin was. They only realized they were past the point of return when it was too late to fix it.

Bobbi nudged his foot with the tip of her toe. “Maybe eight weeks from now I’ll regret everything when my ex-husband is the winner of_ All-Star Baker _.”

He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but it didn’t really work. “At this point seems more likely you’ll win.” Her chocolate chip cookies had blown the judges out of the water and she had made the best Jammie Dodgers. (Hunter was definitely going to take responsibility for her Jammie Dodger proficiency.)

“It’s still early.” Bobbi shrugged. “Besides, you do your best work from the bottom.”

“Barbara!” Hunter’s cheeks burned. It wasn’t bad enough she was toying with his heart - she had to toy with his prick, too? Now he _ really _ couldn’t wait to get back to his hotel room and have a nice, long shower and a good wank.

“Do you think if we’re stuck in here all night they’ll make us compete tomorrow?” Hunter asked.

“God, I don’t even want to think about being stuck in here all night.” Bobbi cringed. “The power shouldn’t take long to fix, should it?”

“I’m not an electrician.” Maybe if Fitz were here he could say something more insightful. Bobbi rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything in response.

Minutes ticked away, and Hunter alternated between playing games on his phone to distract himself from his claustrophobia and doing sixty-second intervals of controlled breathing to keep it from overwhelming him. Bobbi seemed to realize what he was doing with the breathing after the third time he took a break from Minesweeper to calm himself. She looked at him strangely, but didn’t comment. Hunter swore she started copying him whenever he paused to self-soothe, but that was probably just the residual panic making him hallucinate.

The elevator shuddered back to life without warning, and Hunter barely had time to get to his feet before he and Bobbi were deposited on their desired floor.

“Oh my God, are you alright!?” Daisy was there to greet them as soon as the elevator opened. “We realized after you didn’t show up you must’ve been in there.” She looked both of them up and down, intently focused for some unknown reason.

“We’re fine,” Bobbi answered shortly.

“They hit a power line while working on the parking lot,” Daisy explained unprompted. “So the whole place lost power.” She finished her inspection, nodding to herself. 

“I’m going to head to bed,” Hunter said. He didn’t bother faking a yawn - Bobbi would see through it - but he didn’t want to spend one more minute next to her. “See you all in the morning.”

Daisy looked like she was ready to protest, but a head poked out of her hotel room. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up, but he wasn’t about to ask why Trip was in Daisy’s room. She was a big girl, and she could do what (or who) she wanted. Hunter gave her one last wave before heading down the hall to his room.

His first order of business was to call Dr. Garner. His therapist had insisted that if he was in a situation that could compromise his mental health, Hunter ought to call. Hunter wasn’t sure if almost having a panic attack in an elevator counted, and he said as much in the rambling voicemail he left on the doctor’s office phone. Dr. Garner would probably follow up by e-mail, or at least mention it when Hunter went in for his session that week. 

A text to Idaho didn’t seem remiss either, and Hunter shot off a message that was significantly shorter than the blathering he had subjected his therapist to. Idaho responded quickly, confirming that Hunter was alright, and Hunter was surprised to find that he really was okay. He wasn’t great, but that was to be expected. 

After making his assurances to Idaho and chatting a little about the competition - Idaho was too smug that Hunter was doing well - Hunter begged off so that he could actually get the shower he so desperately desired. The hot water sluiced away the last of his nerves and frustration, and Bobbi hadn’t even crossed his mind until he was already in his pajamas.

Hunter slid into his hotel bed, pondering a recourse for his irritation that wasn’t sex or masturbation. That had been one of the bad parts of his and Bob’s relationship, one of the factors contributing to their divorce. Dr. Garner had helped him realize that when he was angry or sad or otherwise feeling shitty, he had sex with her instead of trying to figure out the source of his emotions and dealing with them like the adult he was. 

Getting into therapy was one of the only good things that had happened as a result of the separation, Hunter decided. It was strange to associate losing Bobbi with anything good at all, but not having her had finally pushed him into the arms of his therapist, so Hunter had to admit it was, objectively, a good thing.

Hunter tried to put more brain power into that particular conundrum - how could the worse thing in his life lead to something _ good _? - but his mind was having none of it. He fell asleep still no closer to an answer.

\---

There was not a single way Bobbi’s weekend could have gone better. Okay, there were some ways it could have gone better, like not being trapped in an elevator with her ex-husband for an hour, but as far as baking went, Bobbi’s weekend was stellar. 

The challenge for the second day had been hard, but everything had gone exactly the way it was supposed to. There weren’t any surprises, which in itself was a surprise. She had spent most of the bake waiting for a calamity that hadn’t come.

She was still buzzing with adrenaline as they waited for the judges to finish deliberating. Hunter was sitting as far away from her as humanly possible - not that Bobbi cared. He was slumped over on the stool, obviously exhausted, and even though the elevator debacle hadn’t been her fault, Bobbi felt bad for it. She wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility thinking about her demand had kept him up at night. He was sensitive, as she knew all too well.

Melinda and Robbie walked back into the tent, and the bakers’ chatter halted as the cameras began rolling again.

“This week, I have the pleasure of announcing All-Star Baker,” Izzy said. “This person gave us all a taste of nostalgia with their excellent signature bake, and dodged the curse of the Jammie Dodgers. Their final bake was, simply put, a masterpiece. Bobbi, you’re this week’s All-Star.”

What? This wasn’t happening. This really wasn’t happening. She was still in the elevator with Hunter and she was having delusions because of oxygen deprivation. There was no way _ she _ was the All-Star.

Bobbi’s heart stopped crashing in her ears just in time for her to hear Phil had been eliminated. His coconut cookies hadn’t gone over well, so Bobbi wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed Phil was going. He was nice, if a little over enthusiastic about tropical flavoring and Tahitian beaches.

After hugging Phil, Bobbi found herself swept up in a wave of congratulations on her success in the week’s baking. What surprised her most, though, was when Hunter sidled up to her slowly. He looked like he was preparing for her to snap at him, but Bobbi just blinked at her ex-husband.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Bobbi’s reflex to tell him not to call her that was squashed by him taking her hand in his and brushing a brief kiss along her knuckles. Her heart fluttered traitorously, and it took all of Bobbi’s willpower to let go of Hunter’s hand so he could duck away and say goodbye to Phil.

Bobbi wanted Hunter to come back. She wanted to thank him for getting her into baking in the first place so she could have this moment of pure, unadulterated joy. She wanted to hold his hand and tell him he could sleep on her shoulder on the plane ride home. She wanted to kiss him, and love him, and be with him, even if she had two years of marriage to show her exactly why that was a bad idea.

The next eight weeks were going to be torture.


	3. Chapter 3

Bobbi was a bundle of nerves by the time she’d rushed out of the airport to meet the bus. To her surprise—and probably the driver’s—it wasn’t completely empty.

“Hey,” Bobbi said, collapsing into the seat across from Elena. “Thank god it’s not just me.”

“No.” Elena grinned. “This time both of us are fashionably late.”

Bobbi really had meant to catch her scheduled flight, but a frantic email, two days of digging through depositions, and an excruciatingly long conference call with one of the clients she thought she’d handed off had sent her scrambling to change her reservation. It didn’t help that the whole time, she could hear Hunter’s voice in her head, making sarcastic comments about letting her job run her life. The worst part was knowing he was right.

She did devote an ungodly amount of time to the office, but dammit, everyone expected her to coast on her father’s reputation and she hated being overshadowed. She felt a twinge of guilt. Hunter probably knew exactly how that felt. She hadn’t meant to push him away, but the demands of her job on top of managing his PTSD had overwhelmed her and she hadn’t seen another way out. Deciding to end her marriage had been horrible enough, she couldn’t screw up the rest of her life, too. Her stupid job was all she had left. 

Well, that and this competition.

“You ready for bread week?” Elena asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bobbi said, the half-truth rolling easily off her tongue.

Relaxing back against the seat, Bobbi went over her plans for the first bake. After winning All-Star last week, she’d been practically giddy on the flight home, full of baking ideas and brimming with confidence. More than once, she’d picked up her phone to text Hunter before she managed to squash the impulse.

Getting dragged back into the office even though she was supposed to be on vacation had not factored into her plans, and her adventurous bread recipes had languished, untested, until it was suddenly the weekend again. Which meant she was going to have to rely on her standbys.

She wondered what Hunter had planned. He had always pushed boundaries, in the kitchen and in life, and it’d been something she absolutely loved about him until it was her career he was pushing against. Still, she missed having him in her corner, knowing he wanted her to succeed. The show had given that piece of their relationship back to her, and she found herself absurdly grateful for it. 

“I don’t know how you do it.” Elena shook her head 

Bobbi turned to face her. “Do what?”

“Stay so calm when you have to deal with this whole competition plus your ex. I think they were expecting more fireworks from you two.”

“Yeah, well, it’s only week three, and restraint was never Hunter’s strong suit.”

Elena laughed. “What kind of fireworks are we going to get?”

Bobbi shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat. “It’s not like that. He knows I care about him. I’ll always care, but everything got...it was too much. We just couldn’t make it work.”

“_Parcera_, that doesn’t sound like much of a reason for a divorce.”

“Clearly, you haven’t had to spend a lot of time with Hunter.”

“I don’t think it’s me he wants to spend time with.” Elena winked.

Bobbi’s stomach sank as the bus pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and she had to bite back a retort about none of the other contestants being Hunter’s type. It wasn’t like Bobbi had any right to be upset if he was interested in someone else. Especially not after their not-so-fun chat in the elevator. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed, but seeing him was hard enough without the added confusion of their marital status. It wasn’t fair to either of them to hang onto something that was already over.

She would let him be this weekend, but then she was going to have to ask him about the divorce papers again. He couldn’t hide from it forever. Surely his therapist had pointed that out to him since avoidance was Hunter’s favorite way of dealing with unpleasant things.

She and Elena entered to the usual flurry of makeup and wardrobe people, and Bobbi barely had time to breathe before they were being marched out to the tent. This time, she’d been assigned to a baking station all the way at the back of the tent, and while she was relieved to see Hunter was across the aisle and one station up so he couldn’t watch her. Daisy ended up directly behind him, and she waved cheerfully at Bobbi when she took her place. Giving a half-hearted wave back, Bobbi’s gaze strayed to Hunter’s ass as he leaned over his counter, talking to Fitz.

“Good morning, bakers!” Joey called, drawing their attention to the front of the tent. “Glad everyone could join us. Okay, so you know the drill -”

Bobbi tuned him out, checking to make sure she had all the ingredients she needed in front of her. Hunter had always enjoyed making bread more than she did. She hadn’t had the patience for it. All that waiting for it to rise and then kneading, followed by more waiting, had never been her style. Although Hunter had come up with some memorable ways to pass the time. She glanced in his direction again. Daisy said something that made him laugh, and Bobbi averted her eyes, ignoring the sudden tightness in her chest.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” the guy in front of her said.

Bobbi looked up, her nose wrinkling. “What?”

“Daisy,” the guy said, leaning back against his baking station, his arms crossed. Grant, she remembered now. He kept mostly to himself. The only thing Bobbi remembered about him was that he did something in finance. “I’ve never met anyone like her, even in New York.”

Oh, right, and he never shut up about New York. Bobbi hummed noncommittally and went back to checking her station, glad to see they’d given her an extra bag of cherries in case she screwed up royally.

“I was telling her about this place around the corner from my apartment,” Grant continued, still staring across the tent. “They make these red velvet pancakes I know she’d love. Like her cupcakes from last week, remember?”

“Sure,” Bobbi said, unable to keep her eyes from straying across the tent. Jemma had moved to stand next to Fitz, and they were happily chatting away with Hunter and Daisy. Hunter caught Bobbi watching, and the smile he gave her sent a thrill up her spine. Oh boy, there were Elena’s damn fireworks, just what she didn’t need. Bobbi made a show of rolling her eyes, but Hunter’s smile didn’t waver as he turned his attention back to Jemma.

“Told her I’d take her there for breakfast when she comes to visit,” Grant said.

Bobbi lifted an eyebrow. Up until this moment, she hadn’t realized he and Daisy had even talked, let alone made plans for a sleepover. “When’s she visiting?” Bobbi asked.

“Nothing’s decided yet, but I’m sure she’ll let me know.” 

“Right,” Bobbi said warily. Daisy hadn’t so much as glanced in Grant’s direction all morning.

“Ready, bakers?” Joey called. “Get set, and bake!”

Bobbi grabbed her container of flour and pushed everything but bread from her mind. Her ex-husband might be more distracting than she’d like, the job she’d thrown herself into might be less satisfying than she’d imagined, but at least this one thing was under her control, and she was going to bake the best damn bread the judges had ever tasted.

* * *

Hunter was kneading his dough, which was his favorite part of making bread. The feel of the dough under his hand and the rhythm of the movements made it easy to let his mind go blank as he worked.

Well, it usually did, except now he had a camera crew in his face and Izzy poking at the array of hard cheeses and herbs on his counter. “You know this is supposed to be a breakfast bread, right?” she asked.

“Not everyone enjoys enormous hunks of fruit and sweet dough for breakfast,” Hunter said. Fitz snorted at the station in front of him, busy mixing cocoa powder into his dough.

Izzy chuckled. “Bobbi said something similar.”

“Did she?” Hunter tried his best to sound uninterested. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business but his own that he was still in love with his soon-to-be-ex-wife. She hadn’t had a chance to ask after the divorce papers, and Hunter was hoping to keep it that way, since he didn’t have them. Dr. Garner had been exasperated about Hunter’s unwillingness to even try and move on, but he just couldn’t fathom his life without Bobbi in it.

Hunter had gotten the papers out of the drawer earlier in the week, but he’d barely managed to make it through the first page before hiding them again. Despite the plethora of legalese, he could still read between the lines. Those damn papers were telling him his marriage was over, even if his heart hadn’t gotten the memo yet. It certainly didn’t help that he was spending his weekends with the Bobbi he remembered, relaxed and smiling, the air smelling of yeast and flour and reminding him of their weekend lie-ins. If she wasn’t his wife any longer, where did that leave him?

“She did,” Izzy said with a smirk that told Hunter he wasn’t fooling anyone. “Something about cherries not counting as sweets.”

“They don’t,” Hunter said automatically. “They’re perfect for a breakfast bread.”

"Is that what you’re making?” Izzy asked, picking up a hunk of cheese.

“No, this is more of a classic scone flavor, with a bit of bacon for some kick.”

Fitz turned around, his eyebrows lifting. “In a scone?"

Hunter grinned. “Been living in America too long.”

“Sounds delicious,” Izzy said. “We’ll leave you to it.” She walked away, the camera crew following her, and headed towards Elena, who was having an animated conversation with Mack while she kneaded and he sipped a cup of coffee. Shite, Mack must have already set his dough out to rest.

Hunter returned his attention to his own dough, trying to gauge how much longer it needed to be worked, when something hit him in the back of the head. He frowned and looked over his shoulder to find Daisy leaning over her station with a bit of fruit in her hand. “Are you pelting me with pineapple?” he asked. 

“Did you hear that?” Daisy hissed.

“Hear what?”

“You don’t like sweet bread, and every single person is this tent is making sweet bread except for you and Bobbi, who is making bread with the only fruit you apparently find acceptable.” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “How have you not gotten scurvy?”

“I like fruit just fine,” Hunter said, darting a look at Bobbi. “Just not in my bread.” She was working her dough, her lower lip caught between her teeth and her hair escaping from her ponytail, looking like every dream he’d had recently. Well, with a tad more clothing on. The trouble was, he kept waking up and remembering she was gone. And she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t coming back. 

“It’s a sign,” Daisy said solemnly.

“Of what? Of course she’s making a bread she’s familiar with, you’d be crazy not to.”

Daisy held up a bag of shredded coconut. “Excuse me, some of us are trying to be adventurous.”

“What, are you channeling Phil now?”

“Ugh, why’d he have to go and not Grant?”

“Is he still being an arse?” Hunter asked, lowering his voice.

“Not today,” Daisy said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if he does anything -”

“Yeah, okay, Dad.” Daisy rolled her eyes and an unexpected pain squeezed Hunter’s heart.

Abruptly, he turned back to his dough, kneading it with more force than necessary. Sometimes the worst part of his marriage falling apart were the odd little reminders that the future he’d been imagining no longer existed. Vanished in a puff of smoke. Or a pile of blasted paperwork.

He smacked the dough once more before deciding he’d taken out his frustrations on it enough and scooping it into a bowl. He covered it and left it to rise before grabbing a hunk of cheese to grate. There was nothing he could do to change things now. He might have been able to stave off the divorce for a while if he’d kept his trap shut about Bobbi’s job, but had it killed him that she wasn’t able to see it was sucking the joy out of her life. She was always exhausted, her boss was horrible, and her clients were utter wankers who didn’t deserve the deals she got them.

At least he’d always have this, their last hurrah, so to speak. Maybe someday she’d look back on him with fondness when she was standing in the kitchen, pulling out a loaf of bread on a Sunday morning.

* * *

Bobbi was slowly losing her mind.

Their first bake had taken more than half the day, and while her bread had gone over well with the judges (not Melinda May smile well, but good enough), Hunter was stealing the show.

And she didn’t mean just with his bread, although that had garnered a lot of praise. The man had absolutely no idea how good he looked when he was working a dough. He was wearing a dark t-shirt under his apron, which meant he was already showing an unfair amount of skin, and she could see the muscles in his forearms and biceps flex and stretch while he kneaded. His brow was furrowed, his focus was entirely on the dough in front of him, and goddammit she was making an absolute fool of herself, salivating over the man she was divorcing.

Still, she wasn’t dead.

Bobbi was supposed to be kneading her own stupid, overly-sticky dough for the naan they were making, but she kept getting distracted by Hunter’s damn arms. Her body remembered just how it felt to be on the receiving end of that focus, and all the delicious things his hands were capable of, and doing its best to remind her just how much she missed him. She kept catching herself standing, frozen, her hands buried in the tacky mixture on her counter, while her eyes tracked Hunter’s movements.

Shaking her head, Bobbi checked the temperature on her oven, turning it up a few more degrees to make sure her grill pan was screaming hot. Shit, at this rate she was going to run out of time to cook her damn naan and come in last in the technical again. Hunter gave his dough a particularly loud smack against the counter and Bobbi nearly whimpered out loud.

“Dude,” Daisy said conversationally. “What did naan ever do to you?”

Hunter glanced over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Daisy glanced over at Bobbi and grinned, shaking her head, like they were sharing a moment, and Bobbi blushed, caught admiring her ex. At least Daisy seemed sympathetic, which was nice. Bobbi couldn’t remember the last time she’d had time to make a friend. She concentrated on dividing her dough into eight equal pieces instead, slashing through it with more force than was probably necessary, and getting on with the work of shaping her bread.

The sound of Elena’s laughter floated through the tent, and Bobbi peeked around Grant to see Mack throwing a naan into the air like a tiny pizza, his smile wide. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

Bobbi got her first three naan in the oven and grabbed a bottle of water, gulping it down, while she kept an eye on the oven. Grant didn’t seem as worried about his, leaving his naan to sizzle and wandering over to Daisy’s station to lean a hip against her counter while she worked on melting the butter for their garlic sauce.

“Hey,” Grant said, smiling.

Daisy glanced up distractedly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just thinking we should get dinner after this. One of the crew said there’s a great Indian place down the road.”

“Um, I’m kinda busy right now, Grant.” Daisy grabbed a knife and slammed the flat of it against a clove of garlic. “And I already have plans with Trip for dinner, sorry.” Bobbi’s ears perked up. Shit, she really was losing her mind if she hadn’t noticed Daisy was interested in Trip. That was usually the kind of thing she picked up on. 

Grant straightened up, frowning. “Trip?”

“Hey, might want to check on your naan before they burn, mate,” Hunter said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, right,” Grant said, sulking back to his baking station.

Scowling, Bobbi grabbed a head of garlic and glared at the back of Grant’s head as he returned to his baking station. Hunter caught her eye and made a disgusted face, which had Bobbi’s stomach swooping. For a moment, it was like the old days. Them against the world.

Except things had changed. She’d thought for the better, but it sure didn’t feel that way today. Bobbi pulled her pan out of the oven and slammed it on the counter. Dammit, this was supposed to be relaxing. Rolling her shoulders, she took a deep breath and shook out her arms, trying to find her focus. Her first batch of naan didn’t look too bad, but she didn’t have long to grill the rest, so she needed to get moving and stop dwelling on the past.

Hunter wasn’t hers, not anymore. She’d closed that door.

Bobbi tuned everyone out, concentrating on finishing her naan and before she knew it, it was over, and they were all being ushered out into the late afternoon sun to film their individual confessionals.

She hated this part. Last weekend, the filming crew had spent an inordinate amount of time trying to coax her into bragging about how she’d outbaked everyone and she’d ended up snapping at them. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Hunter, and while she hoped he knew that, it wasn’t really anyone else’s business.

“So,” Izzy said, coming to stand beside the camera and smiling at her. Bobbi relaxed a fraction, glad to see a familiar face, and tried to smile back. “Not a bad showing this weekend so far, although probably not enough to get All-Star Baker again.”

“I think once was enough,” Bobbi laughed. “Especially when I didn’t expect it at all.”

“Who do you think is in the running for it this week?”

“Hunter,” Bobbi said immediately, and then tried to think of another name, so she didn’t look like she was pathetically hung up on her ex. “And…Mack?”

“Hunter had some great bakes,” Izzy said, and Bobbi bit her lip, waiting for some sly comment designed to get a rise out of her. “I know you two have a complicated history, but it’s nice to see you’re willing to support him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bobbi said, surprised. She glanced at the camera and then Izzy, trying to pick her words carefully. “He puts his heart and soul into everything he does, and he deserves recognition for that.”

Izzy tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Not many people would say that about an ex.”

“Hunter’s not just an ex. He’s…” Bobbi’s eyes darted to the camera again. “I don’t regret our marriage, just that it didn’t work out. Can we get back to the bread now, please?”

* * *

The coffee did little to clear the grittiness from Hunter’s eyes or wake up his sluggish brain. He’d slept like absolute crap, which was apparently how all his weekends were going to go. It was almost physically painful, knowing that Bobbi was sleeping nearby but being unable to curl up beside her. He’d woken up more than once, unused to sleeping in an unfamiliar place, though he’d managed to keep his perimeter checks to just his room instead of the entire sprawling building.

“Morning person, huh?” Trip grinned and offered Hunter the cream, but Hunter shook his head.

“Thanks,” Hunter grunted a bit belatedly.

Most of the other bakers were seated around small tables, finishing their breakfast, but Hunter hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of powdery eggs and dry toast. He brought the mug up to his lips and took a deep drink, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.

“You ready for this last bake?” Trip asked, sipping his own coffee.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Did you see the swirl Jemma had in her cinnamon loaf yesterday? That girl’s going to give me a run for my money.”

“Planning on winning?”

“Aren’t we all?” Trip laughed. “I’ve got my eye on you, too, man.”

“I’ll be sure and watch my back.”

“Nah.” Trip shook his head. “My gran didn’t raise a cheater, just the first _All-Star Baker _winner.” He winked and Hunter let out a startled laugh. “Where’d you learn this stuff?”

Hunter shrugged. “My mum, mostly, but I really got into it after I left the service. Gave me something to do in the middle of the night.”

Trip just nodded, instead of asking for details, for which Hunter was grateful. “My gran talked me out of enlisting.”

“Smart woman.”

“She definitely is that. Turns out my talents lie elsewhere, and my mug on TV can only help.”

“Well, good luck, mate.”

“Thanks.” Trip surveyed the room again. “Pretty sure I can outbake most of the rest of these guys.” He shot a calculating look at Hunter. “Your ex is a dark horse, isn’t she?”

“Wife.” Hunter corrected. “Not ex. Not yet, anyway. And yeah, she’ll surprise you.”

Trip grinned. “Guess you would know.”

“She’s certainly thrown me for a loop or two,” Hunter said just as Bobbi entered the room. She looked well-rested and had her hair pulled neatly back. “Speak of the devil,” he murmured into his coffee cup. Bobbi met his eyes and gave him a fleeting smile before she stopped to chat with Mack. Hunter tried and failed not to read too much into it.

“Better the devil you know,” Trip said, topping off his coffee. “See you out there, man.” He headed for the buffet and Hunter found a convenient corner to stand in where he could keep an eye on everything, with Bobbi’s bright hair in the center.

Daisy walked in a minute later and walked past Trip, sliding a hand along his back as a greeting on her way to the coffee. She poured herself a cup and lifted an eyebrow at Hunter before finding a seat.

Izzy was right behind her, but instead of sitting down with the rest of the bakers, she came to stand by Hunter with her cup of coffee. “You do this a lot, you know,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Pick a corner and survey the room.”

Hunter shrugged. “Easier than making conversation this early.” 

“Even with Bobbi?” Izzy sipped her coffee.

“It’s much too early to talk to my almost-ex-wife.”

“You two don’t act like you’re in the middle of a divorce.”

“What, you worried the ratings will go down because we’re not at each other’s throats?”

Izzy looked bemused. “Nah, I think they’ll be fine, since she spent half the day yesterday staring at your ass. That’s going to be fun footage to edit.”

Hunter almost choked on his coffee. “She did not.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the trouble has a lot more to do with the reason you’re over here standing in a corner so your back’s not exposed.”

Hunter bristled. “That’s none of your damn business.”

Izzy gave a lazy shrug. “It’s just an observation. I had a few habits of my own that used to drive people crazy.”

“Was one of them giving unsolicited advice?”

“Maybe.” Izzy grinned. “Spent a long time in a job where people had to listen to me, kind of gives you a warped perspective. And an immunity to insults.”

Hunter snorted and tried to relax. “Sorry. And I’m working on the other thing.”

“That’s good,” Izzy said, finishing her coffee. “By the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re not pulling out all the stops.” 

“Don’t want to burn out too quick.”

“Playing the long game, huh?”

“My specialty.”

Izzy laughed and saluted him with her empty cup before heading back for a refill. Bobbi was watching him, but Hunter couldn’t read her expression. She was sitting with Mack and Elena, picking at a croissant and drinking a cup of coffee that Hunter knew from experience had way too much cream in it. No sugar though, not for his Bob. God forbid she come into contact with sweetness of any kind. The fact that she hadn’t harangued him about the divorce papers yet was nothing short of a miracle.

These weekends were turning into a kind of exquisite torture. He had seen more of Bob in the last three weeks than in the last few months combined, but all it’d done was give him a thousand more reasons to miss her. Apparently, she wasn’t as unaffected as she’d seemed, but it hurt to think that in the grand scheme of things, what he’d been asking of her had been more overwhelming than her job.

Sighing, Hunter went to refill his coffee mug. He was going to need all the brain power he could get if he was going to make it through this weekend with his dignity intact.

* * *

“Ten minutes left!” Joey called from the front of the tent.

Bobbi blew a strand of hair out of her face and whisked the glaze she was working on even harder. Her rolls were cooling on the counter, and she had the orange curls ready to go — they were nice and crisp this time to make up for her pathetic ones during the Angel food cake debacle — but she’d be damned if she didn’t get her icing perfectly distributed.

Daisy had just put the finishing touches on her creation, an annoyingly pretty pile of braided rolls topped with edible flowers, and was now all the way up front, flirting shamelessly with Trip. Hunter hadn’t shown a lot of interest in anyone, which made Bobbi feel a million times better than she had when the weekend had started. Not that she was going to examine that too closely. She might be divorcing him, but he was one of the most amazing people she’d ever met, and it hurt to think he was ready to move on when she was still mired in the past.

She shook her head, annoyed. If he’d just sign the papers, surely something would click, some switch would flip and she’d be able to see the new future she was creating instead of mourning the one she’d lost.

Daisy’s laugh was cut off by a sudden gasp, and Bobbi looked up in time to see her having a whispered, frantic conversation with Trip before making a beeline back to her own station. Trip’s trademark easy smile had slipped, and Bobbi frowned. She barely had enough time to get her own bake finished, she definitely didn’t have time to deal with someone else’s crisis. She gave her icing a final stir before deciding it was smooth enough and carefully began to pour it, making sure each roll got an even amount.

“Bobbi!” Daisy appeared at the end of her counter and grabbed the bowl Bobbi had mixed the rolls in.

“Yes?” Bobbi asked. Daisy swiped her finger through the leftover mixture and stuck in her mouth while Bobbi watched, bewildered.

“Thank god, you’re fine,” Daisy said, sounding relieved.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Trip’s salt and sugar were in the wrong jars.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped. “Did anyone else…” She glanced over at Hunter.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. You check Hunter, I’ll take Fitzsimmons.”

Bobbi was already heading in Hunter’s direction, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her apron. They’d managed to avoid speaking for most of the weekend, and now here she was, about to tell him his rolls might be ruined. “Lance,” she said, wincing as his head whipped around, brow furrowed.

“Bob?” he said cautiously. The camera crews seemed to have caught on that something was happening, but most of them were still clustered near the front of the tent.

“Can I check your sugar?”

Hunter lifted an eyebrow. “I have to say, that’s a new one.”

“Oh my god.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “No, I mean… oh, move over.” She nudged him with one hip and leaned over the counter, reaching for his sugar jar and trying to ignore the warmth seeping into her side where he was pressed up against her. The bowl he’d been holding thunked to the counter. “Trip’s salt and sugar were in the wrong jars,” she said, opening the sugar.

Hunter’s hand grazed her hip, and his eyes dropped to the jar she was holding. “Wrong jars?” She saw his jaw tic as she stuck a finger in the sugar and then brought it to her mouth. “Bob.” His voice was hoarse.

She looked up, meeting his eyes and shook her head. “No, it’s fine, you’re fine.”

“Oh, Christ,” he blurted, his whole body slumping in relief. He dropped his head to her shoulder and Bobbi curled a hand around the back of his neck. “Just took ten years off my life.”

“Sorry, babe,” she murmured, rubbing small circles into his skin, trying to relieve some of the tension. He slid his arms around her waist and made a rumbling noise that was usually a prelude to something that required a lot more privacy than they had at the moment.

And that they weren’t supposed to be doing anymore.

One of the cameras swung in their direction and Bobbi hastily untangled herself, taking a step back. Hunter’s face fell and she curled her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him again. “I’m glad they’re okay,” she said, gesturing at the rolls on his counter. Hunter didn’t say anything. “They look amazing,” she added lamely.

“Two-minute warning!” Joey called from the front of the tent.

“I need to go.” Bobbi spun on her heel and walked away, trying to remember all the reasons she’d asked for a divorce in the first place.

She was still reminding herself as they lined up at the front of the tent a half an hour later, after a brutal judging that left most of them disheartened, and Trip with his head in his hands, his inedible rolls piled on the end of his counter. Hunter’s rolls, however, had apparently tasted as amazing as they looked, and Robbie had even snagged a second one.

To no one’s surprise except possibly Hunter’s, he’d been awarded All-Star Baker, and he seemed shocked as everyone gathered around to say goodbye to Trip, who looked just as confused about his elimination from the competition.

“Hey.” Bobbi reached out and grasped Hunter’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Congratulations.”

Hunter looked down at their clasped hands and then up at her, mustering a small smile. “It’s still sinking in.”

“I know. It’ll hit you on the flight home.”

“Bob,” Hunter began, his thumb sweeping over her knuckles.

She shook her head and let go of him. “Nothing’s changed,” she said softly. “We always had our good times, but there were plenty of bad times, too.”

“I’m working on it, Bob, I told you that,” he said. “Something must have changed, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m still me,” Bobbi said. “You’re still you."

“And it’s not enough,” he said, shoulders slumping.

Her heart ached. “You were more than I could ever ask for.” Bobbi turned, nearly crashed into a camera, and willed herself not to look back as she walked out of the tent. She’d made her decision, and no matter how hard it was, it was what was best. For both of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Hunter put the pen down.

His marriage was officially over - he had just signed it away. More importantly, he had _ chosen _ to sign it away. He had discussed the subject ad nauseam with Dr. Garner; whether or not it was right for him to divorce his wife when he still had feelings for her. The feelings weren’t going anywhere, especially not with seeing her every weekend for the competition, but his therapist had helped Hunter realize some important information: namely, that signing the papers wasn’t an off switch. It didn’t mean he loved Bobbi any less, just that he loved himself enough to leave a relationship that brought both people more sorrow than joy.

It still hurt like a son of a bitch. Tears were threatening to fall, and rather than fight them, Hunter pushed himself back from the kitchen table so they didn’t smudge the still-drying ink.

Bobbi had been the center of his world for so long - he would’ve done anything to make her happy, except deal with her shitty job… and get help for himself. She had certainly asked him enough times. It was easier to think the Bobbi he fell in love with wasn't there anymore, but Hunter knew that wasn’t true. Either way, it wasn’t his job to find the old Bobbi. He still wanted her to be happy, and maybe that job - which he still maintained was stupid - made her happy. 

Maybe he still made her happy, too. Hunter wasn’t sure if that was a naive hope or not, but if he had an opportunity to show her he could still help her find happiness, he wasn’t going to turn it down. She still made _ him _ happy, against all odds, and he wanted to show her that, too. They could bring each other joy again, if they tried, and then this whole divorce thing would be pointless. But if Bob didn’t agree, then at least they could end things… politely, if not well.

Hunter didn’t let himself get caught up in his fantasies. He had a bag to pack and a plane to catch. Signing the divorce papers the day he was flying to North Carolina for the competition wasn’t his smartest choice, but he had wanted to think about the decision as long as possible. A divorce wasn’t something he wanted to rush into.

A sigh shuddered through his chest, and Hunter stood slowly. The papers seemed like they were mocking him. They could keep trying to make him feel bad - he didn’t care. He was as sure about this as he was ever going to be.

\---

Bobbi wanted to throttle someone. Sadly, all the people in her vicinity didn’t deserve her throttling, so she was left clenching and unclenching her fists as she sat in her makeup chair. She didn’t like the rigamarole of getting her makeup done, but that wasn’t why she was so angry.

Hunter had been crying. She had noticed it the moment he had stepped into the room, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Someone had made him cry, and she wanted to punch them, preferably in the face. Hunter was the most frustrating person in the world, but she had never been good at seeing him upset. When he cried, all she wanted to do was fix it. That hadn’t changed just because they were getting divorced.

She doubted Hunter wanted his puffy eyes to have any more attention brought to them, so she couldn’t even ask why he had been crying. Even if Bobbi did manage to get an answer out of him, Hunter wouldn’t let her be his knight in shining armor.

Bobbi sighed, still debating what to do when Daisy approached Hunter with a cup of coffee. He accepted it with a quick comment and a valiant attempt at a smile, and Bobbi felt the vice on her heart loosen the slightest bit. She was glad Hunter had Daisy to help him through whatever was making him so upset. He deserved a friend, and Daisy seemed like a good one.

That didn’t mean Bobbi was any happier about it, though. There was still a part of her that wanted to be doing that - comforting him, handing him coffee, making him want to pretend to smile. That part of her seemed to grow larger every day, but Bobbi was still ignoring it. They had done what they had done and they needed to live with the consequences. _ She _ needed to live with the consequences.

When her makeup artist released her Bobbi was on her feet instantly. She needed some space from Hunter and a place to think without interruptions. She had to clear her throat loudly to get a glaring Grant to move out of the entrance to the makeup area, but then she was alone in the cool April air. It cooled down her face, which Bobbi hadn’t even realized was flushed, but it couldn’t untangle her twisted feelings.

“You okay?”

Bobbi was embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t noticed Mack approaching. She must have been more out of it than she thought if she couldn’t notice six feet of pure muscle coming at her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where’s Elena?” 

Mack’s eyebrow ticked upwards. Bobbi really hated it when people caught on to her deflecting. “Don’t know. Where’s Hunter?”

Bobbi blew out an annoyed breath through her nose. Why did Mack have to ask about the one person she didn’t want to talk about? “Why should I care?”

Mack patted her shoulder fondly, ignoring her question and changing the subject. “Did you hear they changed the schedule?”

Bobbi shook her head. If she had been told, she hadn’t been paying enough attention to the conversation. Maybe that had been what her makeup artist had been talking about when she had noticed Hunter’s puffy eyes.

“We’re filming the showstopper today after sundown, since it’s glow in the dark.” 

Ah, right. Bobbi had spent several hours frantically Googling how to make an edible glow-in-the-dark cake, and putting it into practice had been infuriating. She had been called into work every time that she had attempted to make the tonic water icing that would theoretically glow in the dark, so she was going into the challenge blind. Again. She really needed to stop that if she wanted a chance of winning All Star Baker again.

“At least we’ll have time for a nap,” Bobbi said with a sigh.

“I don’t plan on spending that time napping.” Mack winked at her, and Bobbi smirked back at him.

“You have fun with that, big guy.” Bobbi was happy for Mack; he and Elena seemed like a good match. She made him smile more than anyone else, and even managed to make him move faster than a slow lumber. The only bad part about their young relationship was that it made Bobbi woefully aware of how pitiful her own romantic life was. Some would say that she needed a rebound from her almost-ex-husband, but Bobbi wasn’t thinking about rebounding. She was, much to her own chagrin, thinking about said ex-husband and how he couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

Granted, they were now being corralled to prepare for the first bake, so Hunter kind of had to be there. Bobbi wasn’t all that recovered from her foul mood, so she made a point not to look in Hunter’s direction. She didn’t need to be angry in addition to ill-prepared.

The march into the tent was a familiar ritual, and Bobbi was glad for the routine of it. It was time for another week of baking to begin.

\---

The divorce papers were buzzing in the back of Hunter’s head as he stared across the tent at Bobbi. He just wanted to stand there and look at her for the next however many hours, rather than actually bake. He wanted to look at her for the last few minutes when she was still his - when he still _ could _ look at her without the sick twist in his stomach that reminded him that she wasn’t his wife anymore.

She had looked pissed in hair and makeup that morning, so at least the papers would brighten her day, which was a depressing thought in and of itself. Hunter had cried over them, but Bobbi was going to rejoice, and that sucked.

Fitz was hovering around the edges of his vision, probably hoping Hunter would start a conversation, but he wasn’t in the mood. Fitz was either peppy or grumpy and neither of those things were going to jive well with Hunter’s fugue state. 

Hunter probably would have been better off skipping this weekend. But then he’d give the papers to Bobbi next weekend, and he’d feel like skipping that weekend. It was inevitable he was going to be miserable - it just so happened that now was the place and time for it.

The hosts and judges came into the tent, and Hunter turned his attention to them. Forget the damn papers. He was here to bake.

\---

Bobbi was looking forward to spending the afternoon lounging in her hotel room. Since her supposed vacation from work was repeatedly violated by so-called emergencies, she hadn’t gotten to truly relax in the last month. Now there was no way she could be called into work and she had nothing to do until after sundown when filming started again. Even better, she knew for a fact that both Mack and Elena’s rooms were down the hall from her, so she wasn’t going to have to listen to their sex noises through the wall.

She was flicking through the channels on the hotel television when a knock sounded at the door. Bobbi sighed - so much for not being interrupted. 

Hunter was standing on the other side of the door after Bobbi opened it, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to deal with his -

“Here.” He thrust a sheaf of papers towards her, and Bobbi realized, distantly, that these were the papers she had been waiting for. The papers that ended their marriage officially, and freed them of each other.

“I think I did everything right, but if you want to check them, you can.” Bobbi took the packet from him, wondering why she was suddenly so dizzy.

“Thanks.” That was the only response that she could muster.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Hunter backed away, and Bobbi was only dimly aware of the sound of his hotel room door opening and then closing behind him.

She didn’t have a husband anymore. 

\---

Today was, in a word, awful. Hunter wasn’t sure what he had expected from Bobbi when he gave her the papers, but he had expected something. Instead she had just thanked him and let him walk away without so much as a snide comment about him being unable to fill out the papers properly or his lateness in giving them to her.

He had gone back to his hotel room - right next to hers, because the producers obviously hated him - and cried, the same way he had cried when the reality of the situation had hit him that morning. Hunter had forced himself to take a nap, but he still had a lingering headache, and the bright lights of the tent weren’t making it any better.

It was strange to be in the tent at night, mostly because of all of the lights that were needed. There were some lights in the day time, of course, but sunlight was their primary source of lighting. The moon was just a slim crescent in the sky, but even if it had been full Hunter doubted the watery silver light would have been enough to make the bakers look their most flattering.

Except for Bobbi, of course. She looked amazing under any light, but moonlight made her look absolutely ethereal, like a goddess who had stepped down to earth. The way her hair glowed in the moonlight was the first thing he had noticed about her, the first step in the slippery slope that was falling in love with Bobbi Morse.

“Are you ready?” Hunter had to clamp down on the urge just to punch Grant. Every time the bloke talked he seemed more and more like a douche. Hunter couldn’t wait for the day he went home.

Hunter nodded politely. “I practiced.” He doubted any amount of practice was going to make up for his compromised emotional state at the moment, but he was slightly more confident in his ability to pull the whole glow-in-the-dark thing off after trying it.

“I heard Simmons blabbing about how she planned on making her cake glow. Some sort of fancy chemistry thing. Yawn.” Grant didn’t actually yawn, just seemed rather disinterested in anything anyone who wasn’t him had to say. “You know, in New York, there’s this great place…”

Hunter tuned him out immediately. He didn’t give a damn about New York and cared even less what Grant had to say about the place. Hunter was glad as anything when Joey and Izzy came into the tent and Grant was forced to go back to his station. Before he left, though, he muttered one more comment about how the night was going to be fun, which seemed rather strange. Grant didn’t look like the kind of person who ever had fun if he could help it.

Izzy and Joey reiterated again that this was their showstopper and not the technical, which came with a long laundry list of reminders about their instructions and what was and wasn’t allowed.

An odd sense of peace settled over Hunter when the bake started. His headache was still gnawing at his head, but it was easier to ignore when he had a task to focus on. Bob had always been fascinated about how quickly he could go from goofing around to focusing intently - said it was one of her favorite things about him.

Hunter sighed and went back to cracking his eggs before he could get distracted by Bobbi again.

He continued going through the motions of making his cakes, half keeping an eye on where Melinda and Robbie were in the room. He didn’t like answering their questions in the slightest, especially because neither of them seemed to like him much. Daisy said they didn’t like anyone, but she was a liar; both of them seemed to have a soft spot for her.

The lights went out.

Hunter blinked, wondering if it was just his eyes (or maybe his mind) failing him.

Someone screamed. This definitely wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“Everybody hold!” Izzy’s voice echoed through the tent. “Step back from your stations.”

Hunter obeyed, moving away from his station until he felt the small of his back hit the station behind him. It seemed not everyone was doing the same, though, and a loud crash filled the tent, followed by a yip of surprise.

“Sorry!” Jemma yelped. “I thought I felt someone go by me!”

“Alright, everyone, I need you to move towards the sound of my voice.” Hunter rolled his eyes. It didn’t make much sense to make so much of a fuss about the power outage. If they just waited a minute or two more then their eyes would adjust to the darkness and it wouldn’t be nearly as dangerous to move towards the front of the tent, where Joey wanted them to go.

He obeyed orders because that was what he was trained to do, but exactly three seconds after he started moving towards the front Hunter felt vindicated in his want to wait to move, because someone ran into him. He went down hard, his knee buckling as he fell backward.

The other person fell on top of him. Lovely.

No, wait - shit. He knew the weight of this body, and the shape of it. Bobbi had fallen asleep draped across him too many times for him not to. Hunter wondered if she knew she was on top of him or if she was oblivious. He tried to identify himself, but his voice was lost in the warmth of her breath on his skin. Her lips were so close to his, and if he wanted to -

Bobbi wiggled her hips, and instinctually Hunter’s hands went to her bum, holding her still before she could give him an unfortunately-timed erection.

Except now his hands were on her arse. They twitched as he fought against the urge to knead the muscles there. He was practically shaking with every impulse he was suppressing, everything he wanted to do but couldn’t. 

“Hunter,” Bobbi whispered. Was he imagining the desire in her voice? Hunter’s hands smoothed down the backs of Bobbi’s thighs, and he leaned up so his lips were against her ear.

“Bob…”

“_ Fuck! _” The air was knocked out of Hunter when someone else’s weight was added to Bobbi’s. He wheezed out a curse as both the mystery person and Bobbi scrambled off of him. Hunter sat up, bewildered, and then made his way to his feet, favoring his knee. He limped up to the front, following Bobbi by the heat of her body more than anything else.

“We’re trying to figure out what caused the power to short circuit,” Izzy explained patiently. “Until that’s done we’re keeping you all here. No talking to one another, and we’ll let you know when everything’s ready to go again.”

After two more minutes of waiting in the dark Izzy did a headcount to make sure everyone was accounted for; they were. The crew continued scuttling around trying to figure out what had happened until, just as suddenly as they had gone out, the lights came back on. The tent, which had been eerily silent in the absence of appliances buzzing and people moving, began humming back to life.

Izzy had a quick conversation with the producers, but sent them back to baking in short order. Just a power surge, they were told. It wouldn’t happen again. Hunter wasn’t sure how they could make that promise since they hadn’t known the first power surge was going to happen, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He just wanted to finish his bake and go back to bad.

The next three hours became progressively more stressful, so much so that Hunter almost forgot about Bobbi falling on top of him. Almost. There were thirty minutes left on the clock and Hunter was fairly confident he’d be able to finish on time - until he was distracted by a scream.

“My ice cream!” Daisy looked nothing short of anguished as she withdrew what was supposed to be layers of her ice cream cake from her freezer. “The freezer - it wasn’t on!” 

Daisy was holding the end of the plug to the freezer, looking a breath away from tears. Hunter looked down at his decorations and decided he could spare a moment or two to comfort her.

“It’s alright, love.” Hunter hurried over to where Daisy was standing. “You can use my freezer, yeah? It’s on.”

“The ice cream won’t set by the end,” she sniffled. “It’s going to ruin everything!”

“Better cold gloop than warm gloop though, right?” Hunter said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be alright. You can still do this.”

Daisy wiped at her eyes. “I hope so.”

Hunter kissed her cheek quickly. “I know so. Hop to it.”

He lingered long enough to see Daisy’s ice cream successfully put in his freezer before returning to his own cake. Things would work out - they had to.

\---

Bobbi slammed the door to the hotel room behind her, willing her hands to stop shaking. She had managed to make it through the day without making a fool of herself, but what had happened in the tent when the power had cut kept bubbling to the surface of her thoughts. She hadn’t been so close to Hunter since they had decided to get a divorce - even when he had comforted her on the first week, there had been space between them. There hadn’t been anything of the sort when she had fallen on top of him.

Then there had been Hunter’s hands on her ass, too. Bobbi wasn’t sure what his play was with putting them there, especially since it had been not twelve hours after he had handed her the divorce papers, but damn her if her first reaction hadn’t been to roll her hips into his. Luckily for her she had stopped herself short of doing anything so embarrassing, but she had wanted to, and badly. If someone else hadn’t fallen on top of them, who knew what she and Hunter would’ve done.

Ignoring the ache that had settled between her thighs while the cameras were rolling was easy, almost deceptively so. The minute they had stopped filming, though, Bobbi was forced to acknowledge the slow-building heat. She wasn’t sure if her senses were deceiving her or Hunter really was watching her from across the tent, but either way, the idea had prodded at the coals in her stomach; she was dangerously close to igniting.

Which led her here, sexually frustrated and with the object of her desire just barely out of reach. The divorce papers were still on the side table, mocking her - proof that Hunter was no longer hers to have or to hold.

But _ fuck _, she wanted him. At the very least she wanted his body, his cock inside her or his head between her thighs… Bobbi leaned back against the door, petting her hand along the crotch of her jeans. There was barely any sensation, just the seam rubbing against her underwear indelicately, but it was enough to take her breath away.

She unbuckled her jeans with one hand and stuck her hand down the front of them. A broken moan escaped Bobbi as she stroked her finger across the soaked fabric of her underwear, ending in a jagged exhale when the tip of her finger nudged her clit.

Bed. She needed to get to the bed and get her clothes off, preferably in a way that would allow her to keep touching herself. Bobbi couldn’t remember the last time she had masturbated because she simply couldn’t stop herself - the heat under her skin was almost foreign, and she loathed to remember who had started the fire.

Bobbi was halfway to the bed with her jeans around her thighs when she remembered that she had packed her vibrator, but the thought of having to wait even one more second made her want to scream. The only reason she’d wait when she was this turned on would be if she knew Hunter was coming to fuck her. He wasn’t, though, so she was going to have to fuck herself.

She tumbled onto the bed, kicking her jeans off, quickly followed by her underwear. Bobbi wasted no time in pressing two fingers against her entrance, a strangled sound ripping out of her at how wet she was. It was almost too easy to slide both fingers inside herself, and her pussy clenched around the intrusion. She shouldn’t have been this wet from thinking about being on top of Hunter.

Her inner walls spasmed, and Bobbi’s eyes slid shut. Her body was intent on betraying her, if a passing thought of her ex-husband made her react so strongly. She couldn’t stop - memories of Hunter bombarded her as she continued to pump her fingers and began working on her clit. He was good at fingering her, almost too good. He took her apart and put her back together again effortlessly, and it was unfair how much she enjoyed it.

Bobbi groaned as she continued rubbing fast, tight circles against her clit. Each touch brought her closer and closer to the edge, starbursts of color shining behind her eyes as her brain struggled to keep up with the pleasure washing over her. Every breath she tried to take turned into a gasp for air and a plea for more. Bobbi’s back arched as she continued humping her hand wildly, and she pled to any god that would listen that she would just _ finish _.

Her orgasm slammed into her suddenly, her vision going white. Bobbi muffled her shout of release with her hand, only now remembering that the hotel walls were thin. Hopefully, whoever’s bedroom was against hers hadn’t yet returned.

With the most pressing concern out of the way, all of her other thoughts began creeping back into the forefront of Bobbi’s mind. How tired she was, the weight that had started pressing down on her the moment Hunter had handed her the papers, the fear that she wasn’t good enough - they all came rushing back.

She fell asleep still half-naked, curled in on herself and hoping for a better morning.

But the morning brought only a vague sense of shame. Bobbi showered quickly, letting the steam of the shower smooth the wrinkles in the shirt she had slept in. 

She was hoping to be the first one down to the breakfast nook, but that wasn’t the case. Daisy was in the corner, staring into a cup of coffee as if it had all the answers to her problems. She looked up at Bobbi when the door closed, but then went back to staring silently at the cup. That wasn’t good.

Bobbi went about getting her breakfast, hoping that someone who was better at the whole comforting thing would show up to be with Daisy. No one else did, though, which meant that Bobbi was going to have to figure out how to be good at emotions really fast.

"You should eat something,” Bobbi said softly as she settled across the table from Daisy. She pushed a banana towards the younger woman. “Can’t bake on an empty stomach.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daisy was still peering into the depths of her coffee like it was an oracle. “I totally, completely fucked up the showstopper, and my signature wasn’t that great either. Even if I crush the technical, I’m going home.”

“With that attitude, you are.” Bobbi sighed. “They’re not even sure the fridge not working was your fault, Daisy. If I were them, I’d look at the footage to see if there’s any way to tell when it was unplugged.” There was no way that the freezer could spontaneously unplug itself, and Bobbi thought it was ridiculous that the producers weren’t doing more to investigate what seemed to be foul play. 

“They’re not going to,” Daisy said miserably. 

“Maybe not. But you have a better case for wrongful elimination if you do well in the technical.” Bobbi shrugged. Hunter would probably say that she needed to stop seeing everything like a lawyer, but she couldn’t help it. At least she was good at law.

Daisy looked at her, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll buy that.”

“Eat your banana and get ready to kick some ass, Daisy Johnson.”

That pulled a smile out of her. “Thanks, Bobbi.” Daisy paused. “You’re a good friend.”

Bobbi didn’t really think that was fair praise, but… it was kind of nice to have a friend. 

\---

Hunter hadn’t thought it was possible for him to sleep even worse than he had been all week, but he was wrong. It was entirely possible to sleep worse because what little sleep he had gotten the night previous was interrupted by tantalizing dreams of Bobbi. Almost all of them started with her on top of him on the floor, and they all ended the same way, too - with her confessing her love while he fucked her. The original scene had left so much of an impression on him that his longest, most detailed dream had featured Bobbi masturbating in front of him, complete with a soundtrack of her neediest whimpers.

He was pathetic, and he knew it. Hunter was late to breakfast thanks to a desperate need to jerk off, and things weren’t getting any better from there. He was upset at himself for falling so easily back into bad habits, and he needed someone to debrief with - or at least someone who would understand his need for distraction. Idaho had pulled an overnight shift at the VA and Hunter felt bad disturbing his friend’s sleep. That left his baking compatriots as his only options, and none of them (save Bobbi herself) were well-versed in his PTSD. Daisy was his best bet as his best friend in attendance, but she looked to be deep in conversation with Bobbi, and there was no way he was interrupting that.

Hunter resigned himself to situating himself in his corner again. He began scanning the assembled bakers, purposefully letting his eyes skip over Bobbi and Daisy.

“You’re doing it again.” Hunter turned his head so he could blink listlessly at Izzy.

“Had a bad night,” he answered.

“Ah.” She paused. “Don’t suppose you wanna talk about it.”

“Not really.” At least, Hunter didn’t want to talk about it here and now, with a chance of anyone overhearing them. It was already embarrassing enough to admit he was slipping without someone potentially hearing ‘slipping’ meant furiously masturbating thinking about his now-officially-ex-wife.

“Okay.” Izzy didn’t make to move away, which Hunter appreciated. He didn’t know whether she was there to comfort him or because she also liked having her back protected, but he liked to believe it was the former.

Eventually, they all left the breakfast nook so they could begin filming. Hunter was an autopilot, if he was honest. It wasn’t the best way to be on what was arguably one of the most important days of his life, but Hunter couldn’t help it. He’d rather be on autopilot than be so far in his head that he messed up. He could afford to be a little messy in the technical; he was on the upper half of both of the other bakes, and likely wasn’t going home. He wasn’t going to try to fail, but he wasn’t sure he could put as much energy into the bake as he wanted to.

Hunter didn’t get back into his head until they were waiting for the week’s results. He was sitting next to Daisy, and Bobbi just so happened to be on Daisy’s other side. Wonderful. Daisy was clutching his hand with a white-knuckled grip, and it looked like Bobbi wasn’t faring much better. At least they both could handle the pain.

“The person winning All-Star Baker this week is… Jemma.” Evidently whatever chemistry thing Grant said she’d been going on about actually worked. 

Stupid Grant. (Not relevant to Jemma winning, of course - Hunter just always thought Grant was stupid.)

“And sadly, this week the baker we will be saying goodbye to is… Daisy.”

The grip on Hunter’s hand suddenly went slack, and Daisy made a sound deep in her throat that was somewhere between a whine and a sob.

“Oh, come here, love.” Hunter swept Daisy up in his arms, and Bobbi wrapped around her from behind so Daisy was sandwiched between them as she cried.

Even if they were divorced, there was one thing left in the world he and Bobbi could agree on - Daisy Johnson never, ever deserved to be this sad.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m not talking about Daisy’s contract, I’m talking about his,” Bobbi said irritably, tucking the phone under her chin and nodding her thanks to Gary as he dropped off her coffee order. “He’s in clear violation, having admitted to unplugging the freezer. I don’t care if he claims it was an accident, he didn’t win his spot based on merit.” 

Bobbi rolled her eyes at the person on the other end of the line, who obviously hadn’t expected to field any phone calls about the  _ All Star Baker  _ contract today, and listened to their sputtering excuses long enough to take a sip of her mocha. To his credit, Gary hadn’t even batted an eyelash at the departure from her regular order, but she’d been craving something sweet since she was once again spending her week in the office instead of practicing her bakes. 

At least this time it was for a good cause and, for maybe the first time ever, she was one hundred percent sure her client was innocent. Pastry week was going to kick her ass, so she might as well do something useful before she got eliminated. Hunter needed someone to watch out for him, if Bobbi couldn’t be there. She ignored the twist in her gut at the thought and tried to concentrate on her phone call. The fact that the signed divorce paperwork was still tucked in a pocket of her suitcase didn’t mean anything, she just had more pressing things to deal with first. 

“Well, find someone who does know the answer,” Bobbi said, losing patience, “and have them call me. Ms. Johnson is well within her rights to sue, but we’d prefer it not come to that.”

The person on the other end of the line let out a garbled noise Bobbi thought might be reassurance, but she was already hanging up. 

Her office door creaked open again, and Bobbi looked up to find Raina marching into her office, arms full of files. “Gonzales said to…”

“I’m not here,” Bobbi interrupted. “Do not leave those for me.” 

Raina lifted an eyebrow. “You’re quite clearly here, and Gonzales is losing patience with your little… sabbatical.” Raina dumped the pile of manila folders on Bobbi’s desk and waved a hand.  “Unless you’d prefer to explain to him why you’re working pro-bono on company time.” 

“I’m on vacation,” Bobbi said through gritted teeth. “I’m not on company time.” 

“You’re not?” Raina said, her tone deceptively innocent. “Since you’re using our phones, and having our interns fetch coffee, and taking up space in this building like someone who should be helping actual clients, you can see why I might be confused.” 

Bobbi rubbed one temple as a headache began to form. “I’m not -” The phone rang, cutting her off, and Raina lifted one eyebrow before spinning on her heel and sashaying out of the office. Bobbi eyed the stack of folders before deciding she wasn’t even going to touch them. She made a face at Raina’s back and picked up the phone. 

There were more important things to fight for right now. 

* * *

Hunter got off the bus, half-wishing he’d been eliminated last round so he didn’t have to slog through the agony of spending another weekend with his now-officially-ex-wife. This competition was supposed to distract from his failure as a husband, not rub his nose in it. He didn’t even have Daisy being ridiculously cheerful to entertain him anymore. 

Christ, this weekend was going to suck. 

He let himself be ushered into makeup, only to stop short. Bobbi hadn’t been on the bus, which he’d assumed meant she was going to be late again—god forbid she pass up the chance to make an entrance—but she was already here. He blinked in her direction just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and she smiled tentatively at him. Shite, he was hallucinating. 

“Bobbi!” Jemma crowed, bounding across the room. “I knew you’d get the hang of showing up on time.” 

Bobbi laughed, her eyes sliding away from Hunter. “Don’t get used to it, could be a fluke.” 

Jemma took the chair next to Bobbi, chattering away, while Hunter grabbed one as far away as possible. He had no idea how they were going to make him presentable when his heart had been ripped from his chest by the harpy sitting across the room, but they were welcome to try.  Bobbi looked cheerful as hell, which only made the pain worse. She was glad to be rid of him, while he was going to regret losing her for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, grimacing while the makeup artist attacked him with a fluffy brush. 

He was here to bake, that was all. He could go through the motions one last time, and then hopefully be eliminated so he could end this torture. Dr. Garner would be proud of the way he was allowing himself to feel a range of emotions, even if none of them were pleasant. Right now, Hunter was upset, frustrated, and angry. 

Bobbi laughed, the sound carrying from where she was sitting, and he peeked his eyes open, mentally adding idiotically sentimental to the list. Even after everything they’d been through, her smile was one of his favorite things. He hadn’t seen nearly enough of it in the last few months of their marriage, and he watched, his chest tight, trying to commit to memory the way her whole face transformed. She used to laugh like that for him, once upon a time. 

“Alright, everyone, it’s showtime!” someone called, and Hunter got up from this chair, relieved, ducking away as the makeup person tried to add a little something to his hair. He didn’t give a rat’s arse what he looked like. There was no way anyone would prefer watching him over Bobbi, and the people behind the cameras were no fools. When she was in a good mood, she lit up the room, and if it hurt that he hadn’t been the one to make her smile, well, that was his stupid heart’s fault. She deserved to be happy. 

“Hey,” Mack said, frowning as Hunter came to stand beside him, waiting for the signal to head for the tent. “Aren’t we missing someone? Where’s Grant?” 

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder at them from her place near to the front next to Jemma, and Hunter would swear it looked like she was hiding something, which made no sense. What the hell kind of secret would she have that involved Grant? He was exactly the kind of pretentious wanker Bobbi hated. Or used to hate, but Grant was also the type of jerkoff her parents had always hoped for in a son-in-law. Hunter's hands curled into fists.

A hand came down on his shoulder. “You okay, man?” Mack asked. 

Hunter nodded jerkily and drew in a breath. “Fine.” He squinted into the bright sunshine as they marched across the lawn to the tent, but he couldn’t seem to remember a damn thing about what he was supposed to be baking today. He stared at the back of Bobbi’s head, watching her hair shine golden in the sunlight. His Bobbi, who wasn’t his any longer. 

Hunter groaned internally as he was directed to his baking station, which was, of course, directly in front of Bobbi’s. Mack, Davis, Fitz, and Elena were across the aisle and Jemma was just in front of him, which was a relief. She was excellent at holding up both sides of a conversation, which meant Hunter wouldn’t have to do much when the cameras were around. 

That left the baking station in front of Jemma empty. Hunter made a face at it, wondering what kind of strings Grant had pulled to be given this kind of special treatment, when Joey and Izzy came into the tent. 

“We’ve got a little surprise for you,” Joey said cheerfully. “I’m sure you all remember the disappointment of last week when one of our All-Stars was sent home after a couple of unfortunate setbacks, but we’re hoping this might cheer you up.” 

Hunter rolled his eyes as Izzy stepped back and gestured at someone just outside the tent. Grant required his own entrance now? He should have known this thing was rigged. Daisy hadn’t even liked the idiot, she never would have wanted him grandstanding on her behalf. Crossing his arms, Hunter scowled as someone peeked around the tent flap before bouncing inside with a familiar beaming smile and a little wave. Hunter’s jaw dropped and Jemma actually screamed before dashing up to hug Daisy, who was standing next to Izzy and laughing. 

Izzy draped an arm around Daisy’s shoulders. “Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Grant had to bow out, and the judges thought this would be a great opportunity to give someone a second chance. So, please welcome Daisy back to the tent, and good luck this week!” 

“What the…” Hunter glanced over his shoulder, unable to resist the urge to share this with Bobbi, but she didn’t look surprised in the slightest. In fact, she looked rather smug. He narrowed his eyes. “Bob,” he said under his breath as Jemma and Daisy were directed to their baking stations, chattering excitedly. “What did you do?” 

She lifted one shoulder, avoiding his eyes, and two spots of red appeared on her cheeks. “Nothing.” 

Which meant she’d had everything to do with it. She looked pleased with herself, and maybe he was going crazy from lack of sleep, but it felt a little like she’d done it for him. He wanted to vault over the counter and kiss her, except he wasn’t sure his knee would hold up for the first, and she would probably pop him in the nose for the second. She finally looked up, giving him that smile he missed, dimples and all. They might be divorced, but maybe that didn’t have to mean all hope was lost. He would never stop loving her, and she obviously wasn’t indifferent, no matter what some piece of paper said about the state of their relationship. He felt lighter than he had all week, like a ray of sunlight was finally peeking through the clouds. 

The punch in the nose would be worth it. 

* * *

Even if Bobbi got sent home this week, which was a distinct possibility, at least she’d done some good before she left.

Daisy had run to the back of the tent right after the first bake had started to throw her arms around Bobbi, squealing her thanks and talking so rapidly Bobbi could barely follow along, but the grin on Hunter’s face when she met his eyes over Daisy’s head was worth every minute she’d spent arguing on the phone and avoiding Raina this week. 

Plus, she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d kicked Grant out of the tent, which felt like more of a victory than the last year’s worth of settlements she’d put together combined. 

And Hunter was happy. 

He’d been in an awful mood earlier this morning, and it’d been so hard to keep the surprise to herself, but the look on his face had been entirely worth it. Now, if she could just get her libido to remember he wasn’t hers anymore, she could hopefully keep from screwing up the tartlets they were supposed to be working on. There’d been several dire warnings from the judges about making sure none of the pastries ended up with soggy bottoms, on top of everything else Bobbi was worried about messing up.

The trouble was that the set of Hunter’s shoulders had relaxed, and he was moving with that easy confidence she loved, which meant she was seriously distracted. He was making something with pears, quickly dicing several ripe ones until he had a neat pile of fruit, and she could smell them even over the scent of baking pastry. She’d always loved watching him work in the kitchen, his movements graceful and sure, and the little bit of flair he used while wielding the knife told her he knew she was watching, that show-off. She dropped her gaze to her cherries, sternly telling herself to get a grip, and managed to pit almost a dozen without incident. 

Until he moaned. 

Bobbi jerked her head up and caught Hunter licking pear juice off his fingertips. Her mind went blank as she watched his tongue flick over his knuckles before he sucked his index finger into his mouth. Electricity crackled through her belly, and she shivered despite standing in front of an oven. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, and she knew the instant she’d been caught because the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He slowed down, his movements becoming more languid as he slowly sucked the juice off his last finger. Bobbi’s mouth went dry. 

A loud clatter and a yelp from somewhere else in the tent made her jump, and heat suffused her face as she finally tore her eyes away from Hunter. Focusing on the bowl of cherries in front of her, Bobbi tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing besides ogling her ex-husband. Who wasn’t quite her ex yet, but he didn’t need to know that. It was perfectly normal for her to have second thoughts, especially when they were being thrown together every weekend without any complications getting in the way. She just needed a little time to say goodbye, that was all. 

“So,” Hunter said, propping his hip against her counter and nearly making her drop the cherry she was holding. “Nothing, huh?” 

“Maybe a little something. Nothing you wouldn't have done,” Bobbi murmured quietly, glancing around the tent. 

“Following my example all the sudden? And here I thought I couldn't do anything right.” 

Bobbi took a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was to start a fight when things were going so well. “You always tried to do the right thing.”

“Didn’t work in my favor though, did it?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I still appreciated it.” 

He was silent for a moment. “You’re making cherry tarts?” She could hear the amusement in his voice and didn’t even have to look up to know he was smirking. 

“Don’t start.” 

“Start what?” 

Bobbi tried to keep her expression as stern as possible as she lifted her head. He snagged a whole cherry from her pile, grinning, and popped it in his mouth. “Hunter.” 

“Hm?” he said, his tone innocent. 

“Leave my cherries alone.” She knew it was a mistake the second it left her mouth, but the way Hunter’s eyes lit up made it worth it. She’d almost forgotten, during the painful, tear-filled haze of the last few months of their marriage, just how much fun they used to have. 

“It’s a little late for that, Bob.” 

His jaw worked and she narrowed her eyes. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to tie a knot in the stem.”

“Excuse me,” Hunter said, sounding offended. “Trying?” 

“Don’t you have pears to do something with?” 

Hunter planted his hands on her counter and leaned towards her. “They’re in the oven. Fear not, though, I’ll get back to doing things with them shortly.” He waggled his eyebrows and Bobbi struggled not to smile as he plucked a tied cherry stem off his tongue, winked at her, and turned to back his baking station. 

She spent a moment admiring his butt before finally getting back to her cherries, reminded herself for what felt like the umpteenth time this week that she really needed to dig that paperwork out of her suitcase so they could put this whole marriage thing behind them. 

Which would be a lot easier if her almost-ex-husband would stop being so damn attractive.

Hunter bent over to get his pears out of the oven and Bobbi let out an involuntary sigh that she hoped no one else heard. A bowl thunked onto her counter and Bobbi blinked at it, confused, as Hunter gave the fruit in it a stir. It was a gorgeous golden color, and she could smell something sharp overlaying the sweet scent of pear. 

“Did you forget you have your own counter?” she asked. 

“Need you to try this,” Hunter replied, scooping up a piece of pear. He held it out to her, and Bobbi reflexively opened her mouth, transported back to their shared kitchen. She couldn’t even begin to count how many experiments she’d tasted for him, slowly learning the names of all the spices she liked best while he shared the baking tips he’d picked up over the years. The fruit melted as it hit her tongue and she groaned as the sweetness gave way to spice. He’d put ginger in it, and a little honey. The result was fantastic. “Too much?” he asked.

Bobbi shook her head. “No, it’s great. Maybe a little more cinnamon?” 

Hunter held up the spoon, licking off the last of the syrup and looking thoughtful. Bobbi stood, transfixed, as the flat of his tongue dipped into the bowl of the spoon. He met her eyes, and her entire body sparked to life. His expression told her he knew exactly what he was doing, which was equal parts infuriating and gratifying. She thought he’d be glad Daisy was back, not impressed that Bobbi had made it happen. It made her want to drag him over the counter and kiss that smirk right off his face. 

Which was super inconvenient, given that they were in the middle of a damn tent surrounded by people and cameras. And they were supposedly divorced. 

“I appreciate it,” Hunter said. It took Bobbi a second to realize he was responding to her critique of his pears and not reading her mind. 

“Anytime.” She held up the last whole cherry. “Want it?” 

“Thought I wasn’t allowed to have any.” 

“One more won’t hurt.”

Hunter leaned forward, and she slipped the cherry between his lips, letting her thumb rest on the curve of his lower lip. He sucked briefly on the tip of her index finger before pulling back, setting off another maelstrom between her legs. 

Maybe once more wouldn’t hurt. 

* * *

“Hunter!”

He turned just in time to catch an armful of Daisy as she got off the elevator “Glad to have you back, Dais.” 

“It’s awesome, isn’t it,” Daisy said, beaming at him. “Hey, where’s Bobbi?” She looked around the empty hallway, clinging to his arm. 

Most everyone had headed to dinner, but he was too keyed up to eat. He needed a wank and a stiff drink, preferably in that order. He still wasn’t quite sure where he stood with Bobbi, but if she was aiming to drive him absolutely mad, it was working. It was almost as though now that the divorce was official, the old Bobbi was back. She’d even laughed at his stupid jokes! 

“Bob?” Hunter asked, confused. “I think she’s downstairs.” 

“I could have sworn I saw her-” The stairwell door pushed open and Bobbi stepped out, still flushed from the warmth of the tent, with her hair coming out of her ponytail and flour dusting her jeans. “There she is!” 

Bobbi’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Hunter, but he just shrugged, as unsure as she was about what was going on. “Here I am?” she repeated.

Daisy releasing Hunter’s arm and took a step back “Yep, here you both are. Okay, well, I just wanted to say thanks, and also your tarts looked amazing this morning, even though the technical was brutal, so awesome job. What was that, pear?” she asked Hunter, backing up another step. 

It took Hunter a second to answer since he was busy watching Bobbi. She seemed to have frozen at the mention of tarts, and the memory of the blissful face she’d made when he’d fed her the roasted pears was more than enough to wake up his prick up. “Yeah, pear. And ginger.” 

“Sounds amazing. Remind me to get the recipe later. Anyway, Piper’s calling me, talk to you guys later!” Daisy scurried down the hall before Hunter had a chance to say goodbye. 

“Piper?” he asked. 

“From week one?” Bobbi said. 

“I knew that, but is she back, too?” 

“Not that I know of.” Bobbi hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the door to the stairwell, but her hands had been busy since she’d shown up, tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing down her shirt before sliding into the pockets of her jeans, only to start the process all over again seconds later. He recognized the nervous fidgeting, but he had no idea what she had to be nervous about. His heart sank. Unless this was about the divorce papers. Fuck. 

“The pears were amazing,” Bobbi said, giving him a half smile. 

Hunter blinked at her. “Thanks?” he said cautiously. “Bob, what…” He trailed off as she put a hand on his arm, curling her fingers around him with such concentration it was almost like she wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. There was a crease between her brows, and she was watching him closely, but he had no idea what for. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and ask her what was wrong, but that wasn’t his place anymore. She’d made that official. 

“It’s been nice, hasn’t it?” she finally said. 

“The baking?” 

“This whole…” Bobbi shrugged. “It’s just nice.” He couldn’t resist reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. That got him a full smile. “I missed this.” 

A tiny bubble of hope rose in his chest. “Missed what?” 

Her already pink cheeks got a little pinker. “You know what I mean.” 

“My devilish good looks and incomparable charm?” 

“Hunter.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Fantastic ass and sense of humor?” 

“Definitely not your modesty, since you’ve never had any.” 

“Of any sort.” He rested a hand on her hip, half expecting to get shot down, but she just stepped closer, sliding her hand down his arm and linking their fingers together. 

“You, you idiot. I missed you.” She said it so softly he wondered if she’d meant to say it at all, and he was surprised enough that it took him a minute to find his voice.

“What does that mean?” 

“Just what I said.” Bobbi slid a hand over the front of his shirt. “Don’t make it a thing.” 

Hunter opened his mouth to protest, but she was leaning forward, her lips fitting against his, and he forgot entirely why he’d wanted to argue in the first place. Her touch was more tentative than he was used to, less sure, and that alone made his pulse kick up a notch. He kissed her back firmly, tugging her closer and tangling a hand in her ponytail. He reveled in the familiar feel of her hair sliding through his fingers as she tilted her head slightly, finding their perfect angle. She tasted like pastry and pears, which told him where one of his tarts had gone, and the slide of her tongue against his was more of an invitation than a demand, but he knew he was already lost. 

She made a noise low in her throat that had his blood rushing south, and he moved his hand from her hip to her arse, yanking her against him. She stumbled slightly, their teeth clacking, and the breathless laugh she let out made his heart ache. His back hit a wall and she kissed him again, harder this time. She nipped at his lower lip and then sucked on it while he groaned, grinding his cock against her hip. Christ, they might have made a hash of everything else, but they’d always been good at this. 

“Please, Lance,” she whispered. Fire ignited in his veins, going from the burning embers she’d kept stoked all day to something closer to an inferno. He’d never been able to deny her anything, even if it meant ripping out his own heart and handing it over on a silver platter.

They stumbled down the hall and he managed to get his room unlocked while Bobbi’s hot mouth enveloped his earlobe. As they tumbled in, she began to yank impatiently at his shirt while Hunter tried to remember which direction the bed was in. He kicked the door shut behind them and stripped off his shirt before diving in for another kiss. Bobbi’s fingers were already undoing his button and zip, and he kicked off his shoes before attempting to pull her down onto the bed with him. 

Unfortunately, his aim was a little off, and he almost ended up taking them both down to the floor before catching himself with one foot. He was rewarded with another of Bobbi’s laughs as she caught her breath and then rolled them over so he was on top. 

Maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but god he’d missed her, and right now all he could see was his Bobbi, her hair spread across the blankets, looking up at him like he’d done something marvelous. She arched under him, reminding him that they were still wearing far too many clothes, and he pushed her shirt up, bending to kiss a line up her abdomen to her breasts. 

He nuzzled into her cleavage while she unhooked her bra and tossed it across the room. “So impatient, Barbara,” he murmured. This might be the last time he got to have her, and he was going to savor every moment.

“Maybe you’re too slow.” 

“You like it when I take my time.” He dragged his tongue across one of her nipples, drawing a gasp from her that went straight to his cock. Fuck, he wasn’t going to last long, no matter what he wanted. 

“I’ve been waiting all day,” she said, her eyes wide and pleading. Her hand slipped down the back of his jeans and squeezed, making Hunter’s hips jerk. 

“Fair point,” he managed. Bobbi looked entirely too pleased with herself as she eased his jeans off his hips, but he wasn’t about to call her on it now. Instead, he bent down to kiss her, exploring her mouth with his tongue while he reacquainted himself with contours of her body. 

There was the dip just above her hip that was a bit ticklish, though she refused to admit it, and the smooth skin on the underside of her breast. The curve of her bum fit perfectly in his hand, and it always took just the slightest pressure to adjust her position, like they were dancing. Bobbi had wiggled out of her jeans as well, and she wrapped one leg around his hip, bringing his cock so close to where it wanted to be. 

“Need you,” she whispered in his ear. He tightened his arms around her as she rolled them again and sat up, her hair falling down around her shoulders and her eyes bright. She grasped his cock and Hunter’s eyes rolled up in his head as she sank down on him, surrounding him with warmth and heat and just the right amount of pressure. God, she felt good. 

“Bob,” he groaned, grasping her hips as she began to move.

She braced her hands on his chest and he pried his eyes open again, watching her watch him. She was quieter than she used to be, but then, so was he, trying desperately to hold back everything he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her he missed her, but it wasn’t just this he missed. It was everything. He missed waking up next to her and watching her snore. He missed tripping over her shoes by the front door and arguing over whose turn it was to pick the flavor of toothpaste they used. He missed all the stupid, wonderful things he’d barely gotten to have before they were gone again. 

He missed them. 

Except there wasn’t a them anymore. 

Bobbi closed her eyes as she rode him, and he lost himself in the feel of her, finding a rhythm that made her moan. Maybe their marriage was over, but he was going to make damn sure she never forgot him. 

* * *

Bobbi dumped her suitcase on the couch and looked around at her little apartment. She’d planned on it just being a temporary stopgap while she found a new place but somehow a couple of months had turned into six, and it still looked like she didn’t live here at all. The walls were bare, there were piles of boxes in every room, and she’d never bothered to get a desk, so her briefs were stacked precariously all over the kitchen table. 

Her heels, which she only ever wore to work, were scattered by the front door, and the dry cleaning she’d picked up last week was draped over a chair. The walls were beige, the floors were scuffed, and the view outside was the brick wall of the building next door. She hated every last inch of this place, but she’d hardly had time to do anything about it since she was always at work. 

On cue, her phone rang. Raina’s name popped up but Bobbi ignored it. It was Sunday night, and she’d barely been home five minutes. Whatever it was could wait. 

She opened the fridge in the hopes that there might be something edible inside even though she knew it’d been empty when she left. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Bobbi sighed. The phone beeped, informing her there was a message, and then began to ring again. She picked it up and turned it off, chucking it in the direction of the couch. 

There was nothing to eat, she hated being here, and work made her miserable. The only bright spots in her life were a baking contest she’d somehow been lucky enough not get kicked out of yet—poor Mack, she was seriously going to miss him—and her infuriating, hardheaded, ridiculously sweet ex-husband she couldn’t bring herself to actually divorce. Bobbi groaned and leaned her head against the freezer. 

She was an idiot.

Grabbing her car keys, she hopped back into her sneakers before heading out the door again. Her car was parked halfway down the block, and she made it just before the skies opened up, hastily slamming the door shut behind her. She sat for a moment, staring at the streaky windshield, before straightening her shoulders and starting the car. 

The drive usually wasn’t horrible, but the rain seemed to have hit just as every yahoo in the area was on the road and she’d had to slow to a crawl several times on the interstate before reaching a familiar turnoff. She could feel herself relaxing as she got closer, the trees growing thick on either side of the road, dressed in their spring green. Even though the drive was taking longer than the usual hour or so, she found she didn’t mind so much when she knew what was waiting for her. 

What she hoped was waiting for her. 

It was still pouring when she arrived, and despite parking as close as she could, she was drenched by the time she made it to the front door. Lifting her hand, she hesitated before taking a breath and knocking firmly. 

There was a long minute of waiting while she stood shivering on the narrow stoop and praying Hunter was actually home. Maybe she should have checked in the back for his car. They’d been on the same flight, but she hadn’t spoken to him since she’d woken up in his bed at the hotel, quietly extracted herself from his arms, and snuck back to her room. She’d made a mess of everything. 

The door opened, and Hunter stood frozen, surprise evident on his face. 

“Hi,” she finally said. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

She pushed her wet hair back and wished she looked less like a drowned rat for this conversation, but maybe she deserved it. “I went home, well, to the place I’m living now, but it’s really not home, you know? It doesn’t feel like a home. This was home, and I miss it, I miss you.” 

His face shuttered. “Bob, you can’t just keep…”

“No, wait,” she said, her heart pounding. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I do miss you, but not just because of that.” He still looked confused. “I’m not happy.” 

“I know this speech by heart, love. You could have just called, saved us both the trouble.” 

“This isn’t coming out right.” Bobbi nearly stomped her foot in frustration. “Look, I just love you, okay?” 

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” 

“I love you, and I miss you, and work is awful, and you have every right to say I told you so about that, and I know this might be completely out of line, but I was hoping maybe…you missed me too?” She held her breath, waiting. 

The tiniest smile flitted across his face, and he propped one shoulder against the doorframe. “I get to say I told you so, huh?” 

Bobbi wrinkled her nose. “Lance -”

He reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I missed you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was obsessed with pear tarts after watching too much much Great British Bakeoff so here's a quick and dirty (Hunter's favorite) version I made that was easy and delicious! [Pear Deliciousness](https://www.forkknifeswoon.com/ginger-pear-puff-pastry-tart/) (You're welcome, Ness.)


	6. Chapter 6

“Hullo?” Hunter’s voice was the first thing Bobbi heard when she woke up, soft and scratchy with sleep. 

“S’for you,” he said, handing over her cell, which had apparently woken him up by ringing - just as it had yesterday, and the day before that. Bobbi accepted it without comment. She already knew who was going to be on the other end of the line.

“I told you, Raina, I’m not coming in today.” She was an hour outside of the city while staying with Hunter, and he was a much better excuse not to go in than baking was. Not that she was telling anyone that she was sort of back together with her not-actually-ex husband. (She still needed to get around to telling Hunter that they weren’t actually divorced, but that was a different topic for a time that wasn’t quite so early in the morning.)

“Gonzales -”

“Has known I was taking this week off for over a month and shouldn’t have scheduled me to do anything,” Bobbi finished firmly. She rolled over just in time to see Hunter grinning broadly at her. He had never liked Raina. “I’ve told you all this already. Stop calling.” She didn’t give Raina the time to answer before hanging up.

Hunter rolled towards her, slinging an arm around her waist. “You are so hot when you get all bossy,” he mumbled, mouthing small kisses on her neck. “Wish she wouldn’t call so bloody early though.”

Bobbi curled herself closer to her husband, nodding her agreement. “We can go back to bed.”

Hunter glanced over her shoulder at the alarm clock. “You can. I should probably be getting up anyways.”

Bobbi had to admit it was strange that Hunter had somehow become the one of them who was dedicated to his job. But his job wasn’t a soul-sucking hellhole, so it made sense that he would commit himself to it. It also gave her an entirely new perspective on how horrible it was to have someone climb out of bed in the morning and not heed any of the whines made for them to come back. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast while you shower?” It was better for her to get up rather than spend the entire day lounging; that way when he came back from work she’d have something for him to taste test. 

“Tomorrow you’re coming in the shower with me,” Hunter declared as he kicked the covers back. “Or tonight. I’m not picky.”

“This morning?” Bobbi suggested, batting her eyelashes.

“No.” Hunter leaned over to steal a kiss from her. “As much as it pains me to say this, I am not interested in a quickie. I need time to reacquaint myself with every gorgeous inch of you.” He started kissing a line down her throat, and Bobbi had to force herself to shove him away. Otherwise they were not going to get anything done that morning.

“Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll swing by over lunch. Idaho’ll love it.” Bobbi stood up, brushing a quick kiss over Hunter’s lips before sauntering out of the bedroom. She was just wearing one of Hunter’s old tees and her underwear, so of course he was watching her. “Brush your teeth when you’re done. Your morning breath is awful.”

Hunter’s laughter followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, and Bobbi smiled to herself when she heard the shower turning on. Sharing a space with Hunter again had done wonders for her in every way. She hesitated to say they were living together again, because it had just been a week and there was a lot left for them to talk about, but for now, even a vacation from her apartment (and her job) was a welcome change.

Bobbi began moving around the kitchen, figuring out what they could cobble together for breakfast. When Hunter had gone grocery shopping that week, he hadn’t anticipated that Bobbi would be using up so many eggs and so much milk with her baking practice, so they didn’t have much left in the way of staples. It seemed silly to buy more when they were leaving for the weekend, so Bobbi was going to have to be creative.

She rummaged through Hunter’s cabinets, trying to think of something that would complement the leftovers of the herb bread she had made for practice. All of the usual suspects were empty, so she began poking through one of the bottom cabinets they had mostly left unused when they were married.

Bobbi furrowed her brow when she opened one of the lower cabinets and found a box of tea bags. Hunter didn’t drink tea, much to her amusement. He had done at the beginning of their relationship, but then suddenly developed a distaste for the stuff. Bobbi had figured it was one of the things that happened as a result of the ever-shifting map of his PTSD, but hadn’t ever bothered asking about it. Now he had tea back in the house, which either meant he was drinking it again or…

Bobbi stopped herself before she could finish the thought. She didn’t want to think about anyone else being in their home. There was an explanation to this that didn’t involve someone else seducing her husband. Bobbi took a deep breath, left the box of tea on the counter, and moved on to scrape up something for their breakfast.

She had something passable as a meal waiting when Hunter came thudding down the stairs. He made a beeline for the table, sitting in front of the breakfast waiting on it. Bobbi sat herself in his lap, stealing bites from his fork whenever she pleased. Another drawback to staying with Hunter the whole week: there definitely weren’t enough dishes for both of them. Sharing utensils wasn’t a problem, since they had spent the last few days sharing their saliva in other ways. 

“I have a question,” Bobbi said, snatching another bite of breakfast.

“I have an answer, maybe,” Hunter replied, spearing another morsel and offering it to her. Bobbi was still chewing her previous bite, so she shook her head and let him have it. 

She swallowed. “Do you drink tea now?”

Hunter stilled. “That’s a complicated answer.”

“Why?” Bobbi didn’t like this at all.

“You’re going to laugh.”

“What if I promise not to?” Bobbi just wanted to know why something as simple as beverage choice could warrant such a roundabout answer.

“Fine.” Hunter narrowed his eyes at her. “But if you do -”

“I won’t,” Bobbi interrupted. “Just tell me.”

“You never kissed me after I drank tea.” Hunter’s voice came out in something surprisingly akin to a whine, and Bobbi’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “So I stopped drinking tea when we were together, because I quite like kissing you.” Bobbi had known the part about him liking kissing her, at least. “I started drinking it again because I thought it would, I don’t know, help me move on?” Hunter shrugged, then turned to nuzzle into her collarbone. “But now I have you back, and if I have to choose between you and it, well…”

Bobbi could see why Hunter would think she’d laugh at that - it was the sort of stupidly sentimental thing that only her husband would think to do - but she didn’t feel like laughing. Her heart was twisting in a way that made her want to cry more than laugh.

She had almost let him go.

“I didn’t file the divorce papers.” The words came out in a whisper.

“What?”

“I didn’t file the papers,” Bobbi repeated. “I - couldn’t.” She tightened her arms around Hunter’s neck. He hadn’t thrown her off his lap yet, so he probably wasn’t too angry, but she had wanted to have this conversation in a different way. It was supposed to be something that she planned out, so she had the perfect words to explain why and how she’d failed to submit the papers, instead of a declaration and a single half-formed sentence.

Hunter breathed out, long and slow. “I hoped you hadn’t, but I didn’t imagine that you actually wouldn’t,” he said, pausing awkwardly every few words. “I didn’t want to sign them, Bob.”

“I know you didn’t.” She kissed the crown of his head. “I wish I hadn’t made you, because if I hadn’t come to my senses…”

Hunter squeezed her tight against him. “It’s okay, love. We both made a mess, and cleaning it up will take some time.” He nudged her. “If at the end of the day we still don’t like what we see…”

Bobbi couldn’t imagine that would ever be the case, but she nodded her understanding. They could take this one step at a time.

\---

The water pounded against his back, hot and soothing. A pair of skillful hands smoothed over his shoulders, searching for knots in the muscles. Hunter ducked his head to Bobbi’s shoulder when she pressed on a particularly sore spot, grumbling.

“This is what you get for falling asleep on me,” she reprimanded, pushing her thumbs into the tense area more forcefully.

“A great night’s sleep and an excellent massage from my wife, however will I cope?” Hunter was still revelling in his ability to call Bobbi his wife and have it be the truth. He hadn’t been ready to abandon the word, but it was nice to know that every time he said it he wasn’t lying to himself. Hunter twisted so he could kiss Bobbi’s neck, then the sensitive spot tucked under her jaw.

“Don’t get started on that. We need to pack.” Her protests fell on deaf ears. Hunter continued laving kisses on her throat - he knew he had won when Bobbi’s hands stilled on his shoulders.

He made his way down from her neck to her chest, kissing the freckle between her collarbones and the gap between her breasts before sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. His cock jerked when she let out a breathy moan in response to his tongue swirling around the tight peak of her nipple, and Hunter willed himself to behave a little longer.

He switched his attention to her other breast, skimming his hands over Bobbi’s sides. She shivered when his fingers ghosted over the skin of her ribcage and jerked under his touch when he palmed at her arse.

Hunter released Bobbi’s nipple from his mouth with a soft popping sound, smiling up at her. “Bob. I’m afraid there’s some bad news.”

Her blue eyes bored into him, and Hunter wanted to laugh at how she could manage to look simultaneously scary and horny. “What?”

“Robbie and Melinda would be very disappointed in you.” Bobbi was quickly losing patience with him, Hunter could tell, so he delivered his punchline. “You have a soggy bottom.” He pinched the bottom in question, chuckling when Bobbi’s hips jerked towards him reflexively. 

“I cannot  _ believe _ how attracted I am to you right now,” Bobbi muttered. “But if you ever mention anyone from the show when we are having sex again, you will be banished to the couch for the rest of your life.” She punctuated her point by dragging him in for a kiss. Bobbi’s tongue was teasing, darting in and out of his mouth with an expert’s precision. Just when Hunter thought he was gaining some leverage, Bobbi’s hand wrapped around his cock. He was utterly at her mercy - just the way he liked it.

Bobbi used her grip on his cock to guide it to her entrance and they both whined into the other’s mouth when she nudged the tip of his cock against her clit. Hunter would be the first to admit that his first thrust into her was not at all artful, but he doubted either of them cared. Being inside Bobbi was without a doubt one of his favorite things in life. She felt perfect - hot and wet and soft and strong around his cock. They still hadn’t ended their kiss, and Bobbi’s none-too-gentle nip on the lip was Hunter’s cue to move.

His hands resumed their place on her ass when he began to thrust, guiding her hips forward to meet his every time. Bobbi’s hand snaked down between their bodies so she could find her clit, and their kiss finally broke when Bobbi pulled away to moan, loud and low. God, he loved her sex sounds, so much that he even dreamed about them.

“When we were at the hotel week before last, I had a wet dream about you.” He pinched her arse gently. Hunter was unsure if it was the pinch or the words that sent her hips stuttering forward into his, but he didn’t care. “Dreamed you were on the other side of the wall, getting yourself off thinking of me.” His balls were getting tighter even thinking about it, and Hunter sank his teeth into Bobbi’s neck, trying to regain some of his composure.

“Wasn’t a dream,” Bobbi panted. Hunter’s eyes rolled back in his head, and no amount of neck biting would have stopped him from blowing his load right then and there. Bobbi ground her hips against his as he came, and Hunter rode the wave of an orgasm that was much more sudden and intense than the one he had expected.

When he came back to his senses the first thing he did was reach for Bobbi’s clit, but she was already taking care of herself, mewling softly as she rubbed it. She came with a cry, leaning forward into Hunter, and he held her until the shaking stopped.

“I’m going to need to hear more about this not-dream,” Hunter whispered into her ear. 

“We have to pack,” Bobbi protested. “And actually shower instead of just fucking.”

Hunter was sure this was revenge for the soggy bottom comment. He’d get the story out of her eventually.

\---

Bobbi had started a list of things that objectively sucked the moment she and Hunter had stepped off the airplane. Number one on the list: she couldn’t hold his hand.

There was nothing stopping her except for her own insistence they should keep things private between them until they were on firmer ground, but it still sucked. A lot. The past week had gotten her used to spending time with him and touching him - not just in the sexual way, either. More often than not Bobbi would find herself reaching out for her husband for no other reason than she could and she wanted to.

Now, sitting on the shuttle from the airport to the tent, she couldn’t hold his hand, or rest her head against his shoulder, or press their legs together in silent camaraderie. 

She had never paid much attention to how much she touched Hunter until she realized she couldn’t. She didn’t even get a goodbye kiss when they parted ways in the makeup tent. Keeping things private was a stupid idea, and Bobbi hated herself for suggesting it. She and her husband were too stubborn to purposefully go back on their agreement not even eight hours after setting it, which meant she was stuck until next weekend.

Needless to say, she was more than a little cranky. That wasn’t helped by her having to wear a high-necked shirt to cover the love bites on her shoulder - it was too hot and slightly itchy and altogether unpleasant.

Davis sat in the make-up chair next to her, which was a relief. He wasn’t the talkative type unless you got him going on his wife or kids.

Apparently, today was different, because as soon as he sat down Davis started talking about… birthday plans? 

“...and she still hasn’t told me whether she wants her birthday party to be about sharks or dinosaurs. I’m going insane! I can’t bake a shark-dinosaur cake!” Davis gesticulated wildly, nearly knocking out one of the people trying to do his makeup.

“Why not?” Bobbi asked through slightly parted lips. She was trying not to move too much as her lipstick was applied, but she was genuinely curious. Davis was obviously a talented guy, and she didn’t think that making both sharks and dinosaurs would be a problem for him.

“Simmons would kill me for anatomical inaccuracies if I tried to make a dino-shark,” Davis answered miserably. “And there’s too many teeth. I don’t like teeth.”

Davis was a weird guy. Bobbi kind of liked it, though. He continued rambling about his daughter’s birthday cake, and Bobbi found her mind wandering to what it would be like when she and Hunter planned their own daughter’s birthday. She caught herself before she could get in too deep, trying to remember that she didn’t have a daughter. She had just gotten her husband back, and it seemed a little soon to start thinking about having a baby, no matter how adorable a baby version of Hunter would be. 

Bobbi was much more confident marching into the tent than she had been in basically any other week - save, perhaps, for the week after she had won All-Star Baker. The knowledge that she had practiced for this weekend more than she had every other weekend combined was comforting, but Bobbi was trying not to let it make her cocky. 

Her station was as far away from Hunter’s as was possible in the tent, which saddened Bobbi a little. It was probably for the better, since she wouldn’t have to restrain herself from teasing him, but it was still disheartening that the first time she wanted him close by, he wasn’t. At least he was placed next to Daisy, so he had someone to banter with for the cameras. Bobbi’s station was next to Jemma’s and in front of Fitz’s, which meant she wasn’t getting any banter at all. Neither of them were the bantering type - they were babblers when they got nervous, hardly giving Bobbi the time to get a word in edgewise.

Bobbi’s premonitions were proven correct, as during the first bake neither of her neighbors did anything but babble about how the wetness of their floral ingredients for Botanical Week was going to ruin the moisture ratio of their batters. Bobbi didn’t know how to fix that problem on such a scientific level, but she did know that her cupcakes were fully cooked when they came out of the oven, which wasn’t something half the other bakers could say.

Hunter winced at her from across the tent when the judges tore into him for the barely-baked centers of his cakes, and she gave him a sympathetic look. He’d be able to come back from it, Bobbi was sure. She didn’t want this to be their last week in the tent together - not when she hadn’t yet gotten the chance to kiss him on national television.

\---

Hunter had had better baking days in his life. Today hadn’t gone horridly, but he was going to need to do better tomorrow if he wanted to be assured of his position in next week’s line-up.

The main difference between today and other bad baking days was he had Bobbi waiting for him when he got back to his hotel room. Daisy had offered to listen to him whine, but she hadn’t done well that day either and he didn’t want to burden her with his moaning. That was what his therapist was for. Daisy had said she was going back to her room to call Piper, which was Hunter’s cue to return back to his own room and his waiting wife.

Bobbi wasn’t in the main part of the hotel room when Hunter entered. He poked his head into the bathroom and found her there, wrestling with gauze and athletic tape.

“Need some help?” He asked, extending his hands to take the materials from her. 

“Yeah,” Bobbi sighed, handing them over. “I burned my hand and didn’t notice until dinner.” She held up her left hand to show him the angry pink line that ran across all four of her fingers. Hunter frowned, setting down the gauze and tape so he could inspect the burns more carefully.

“I just knocked them against the pan during the technical. Nothing serious,” she promised as his eyes skimmed over the burns again. “They might feel better if you kissed them, though.” Hunter looked up to see his wife batting her eyelashes at him, a slight pout on her face.

“I suppose I can spare a kiss,” Hunter said seriously. He brushed his lips against each of the burns, one by one.

“Better already,” Bobbi whispered when he finished. He kissed the back of her hand one more time for good luck before straightening.

“Of course they are. I’m magic.” Hunter quirked his lips up into a smile. “I think there’s something else I can kiss better, too.”

“Oh really?” Bobbi asked. She fluttered her eyelashes again, picture-perfect innocence written all over her face. Hunter’s smile turned into a smirk, his frustrations from the day fading more with each minute he spent with his wife. 

“Let me finish with these,” Hunter said, lifting her injured fingers. “Up on the counter with you, love.” 

Bobbi followed his instructions, spreading her legs suggestively while he went to the bedroom to dig through their bag of toiletries. He needed to find the tube of antiseptic cream he had tucked inside it, just in case either of them had gotten any nicks or cuts. Hunter was proud of his own foresight, and returned to the bathroom triumphantly.

“Missed you.” Bobbi leaned forward to kiss his forehead, and Hunter snorted.

“I was right outside.”

“I know.” Bobbi held out her hand so that Hunter could apply the cream to her burns. “But it was weird today not being able to talk to you.” She paused. “I think that maybe trying to be private might not be the way to go.”

“You’re not going to find any objections here, love,” he answered, grabbing the gauze and beginning to wrap it loosely around each of her burned fingers. “I know we still have a lot to figure out, but I think telling everyone will do more help than harm.” Hunter finished wrapping Bobbi’s fingers, stepping back from her with a smile.

“Tomorrow?”

“Why not?” Hunter hated to say it, but he didn’t think they were being subtle in the first place. Daisy might’ve figured it out already, and probably Izzy too. 

“Excellent. Now, I believe I was promised some special kissing?” Bobbi drew her knees wider apart in an obvious invitation.

“Not in the bathroom, Bob. Who knows what kind of germs are on that counter.”

“They wash it, Hunter!”

“Is that really a chance you want to take with your vagina?” Bobbi pulled a face. “Thought not.” Hunter stepped in close, and Bobbi wrapped her legs around his hips, looking ridiculously pleased when he lifted her up, his hands sliding over her arse. 

It only took a few steps before Hunter was dropping Bobbi onto the bed. She wriggled out of her jeans and panties, leaving herself entirely exposed. Hunter couldn’t bring himself to tease her, not when all they both wanted was his head buried between her thighs.

Hunter laid on his stomach between Bobbi’s legs, perfectly positioned to pleasure Bobbi’s pussy. He didn’t hesitate before beginning to use his tongue on her; he knew what she liked, and more importantly, he knew how to listen to what her body was telling him.

Right now she was telling him she needed slow and soft, and he was happy to oblige.

Hunter began tracing her outer folds with the tip of his tongue, revelling in the flavor of her. Bobbi tasted like she always had, musky with the faintest hint of sweetness, and Hunter was intoxicated. The next sweep of his tongue met a rush of wetness, and his eyes flicked up to Bobbi’s face. She didn’t seem at all ashamed by how her body was responding to him, and a pleasant ripple passed through Hunter. She wanted him, and he wanted her - this was their reality now.

Eventually he moved from mapping her labia to thrusting his tongue inside her. Bobbi’s small moue of pleasure the first time he did was all Hunter needed. He still kept his pace slow and steady, tracing patterns on the soft skin of Bobbi’s hip bones as he worked her with his tongue. Her breaths grew steadily louder as he continued, but Bobbi didn’t beg for him to move faster or harder - she just met each movement of his tongue with a rock of her hips so he could reach as deep as possible inside her.

Her composure only fractured when Hunter drew the flat of his tongue across her clit. “Oh!” The sound was halfway between a yelp and a moan, and it was like music to Hunter’s ears. He had been between Bobbi’s legs coaxing her towards an orgasm for the better part of a half-hour, and that one sound was all he needed to know the payoff would be immense.

Bobbi still kept mostly quiet as he began swiping his tongue across her clit, but her breathing was quickly gaining a ragged quality to it and her muscles were tensing beneath Hunter’s hands. She didn’t need to warn Hunter that she was going to cum - he saw it in her sudden sharp inhale, her hands fisting in the hotel sheets and her spine arching so beautifully off the bed. She let out a guttural cry of a single syllable, her entire body shaking as she came.

Hunter wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking gently and sending Bobbi into a second, smaller orgasm. When she had ridden that one out, too, he propped himself up, wiping Bobbi’s slick off his chin and then licking the juices up from his hand. He was never going to get tired of the way she tasted or the heavy-lidded look she gave him after she came.

Bobbi groped blindly for him until Hunter settled next to her at the head of the bed. She nuzzled into his shoulder, clinging to his arm like it was her lifeline. 

“I feel like goo,” Bobbi muttered, her voice muffled against his shirt. “Really good goo. That was the best orgasm in the history of orgasms.”

That was a compliment he didn’t hear often. Hunter dropped a kiss to the crown of Bobbi’s head. “I told you I’d kiss it better,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you so much, you dork.” Bobbi lifted her head just long enough to look him in the eyes before pressing her nose into his cheek. “Let’s take an early night.”

Hunter didn’t mind taking an early night with Bobbi. Even when he was lying awake in the darkened bedroom, it didn’t feel like a waste of time. Not when he was with her.

\---

Bobbi wasn’t surprised she and Hunter were the first ones down to breakfast. An early night meant an early morning, and Raina’s wake-up calls had gotten them both in the habit of being up at ungodly hours anyways.

“Tea?” she asked Hunter blearily as she made her way over to the hot drinks machine. He nodded, making a beeline for the food. 

They reconvened at a table in the corner, sitting across from each other with their legs tangled together beneath the table. Hunter had actually gotten two plates, which felt stupid after spending the whole week eating off the same one. She still accepted hers without complaint, handing Hunter his tea. He had only agreed to start drinking it again if she promised he would still kiss him, and Bobbi couldn’t say no to that. She didn’t want her husband denying himself something he wanted just because she wasn’t as big a fan.

They ate their breakfast quietly, more absorbed in the peace of the moment and playing footsie under the table than in trying to get their brains to make words sound good at this hour.

Simmons was the next person to trail into the breakfast nook. She looked over at Bobbi and Hunter eating together, and her eyes widened.

“You’re drinking tea!”

Hunter almost spat said tea out, because Simmons was so, so far off the mark of things that she should’ve noticed about the situation.

Luckily for Jemma (but unluckily for the people in the hotel still trying to sleep), Daisy was right behind her. When she saw Bobbi and Hunter together, she let out a loud screech, diving to give Hunter a bear hug that he couldn’t return from his seated position.

“You guys did it!” Daisy cheered. “I’m so proud of you for finally getting your shit together! Piper owes me ten bucks - she was  _ so _ convinced it wasn’t going to happen.”

Fitz walked in just as Daisy was throwing herself at Bobbi for an equally fierce hug, looking around bewilderedly. He took in the scene, paused a moment, and then shook his head before shuffling over to the hot drinks.

He’d figure it out eventually.

\---

The final bake for the weekend was finished, and Hunter reckoned he had done enough to keep himself in the competition. There was something about recreating the centerpiece at his and Bobbi’s wedding that had inspired him to pull out all the stops, and he had done well, if he did say so himself.

Bobbi had done even better, though. If making the macarons that had served as their wedding cake had made him nostalgic, then seeing his wife do the same thing had made him downright misty-eyed. As soon as the cameras had stopped rolling he had wanted to wrap Bobbi up in a hug and never let go of her, but he had been pulled away to give a confessional about the final bake.

Hunter couldn’t remember what he said, honestly. It was probably something that would make Bobbi roll her eyes or blush when she heard it, but that was most of what he said anyways. When he returned to the main tent, Bobbi was still there and still unoccupied. Hunter took his chance to sidle up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned forward to peck his lips softly, smiling a smile that warmed him from the inside out.

“If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you copied me.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against his, and Hunter smiled.

“What else was I supposed to think of when they said floral?” He asked. “We tasted so many different flavor combinations, Bob. My stomach almost didn’t recover.”

“Just be glad we didn’t spring for elderflower. Apparently Melinda hates the taste of the extract.” Hunter frowned; Daisy had made an elderflower cake, so that didn’t bode well for her.

“She likes violet, though.” Melinda had eaten the entirety of both Hunter and Bobbi’s vanilla-violet macarons, and complimented them both equally.

“Violet tastes good.” Bobbi shrugged. “Speaking of.” She reached down into the pocket of her apron, and withdrew a napkin. Bobbi set it on the baking station and unwrapped it carefully, revealing two macarons - one of his and one of hers.

Bobbi lifted the sweet she had made to his lips, and Hunter opened obligingly. He let out a soft sigh at the medley of flavors playing on his tongue - the floral notes of the violet and the sweet crispness of the vanilla worked together beautifully. Bob deserved All-Star baker for that alone.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out she wanted him to feed her, too, and Hunter lifted the second macaron to his wife’s lips so she could take a bite. They finished feeding each other, and Hunter leaned forward to suck a smear of icing off of Bobbi’s lower lip. He entirely forgot they weren’t in private until he heard Izzy clearing her throat loudly. Hunter tried to look chastised, but judging by Bobbi’s amused expression, he failed.

His wife tapped his cheek gently to draw his attention back to her.

“I know I’m being a sap, but I don’t want you to forget…” Bobbi sighed. “This is work.  _ We _ are work, and if we don’t try, then…”

“Then it ends in tears. Yeah, I remember that part.” Hunter leaned his forehead against hers. “I know it’s work, Bob. Being a better person is work, too, and I’m trying to do that.” He swallowed. “Not just for us, but for me.” Hunter loved his wife so much it hurt sometimes, and maybe he had started trying to be better in an attempt to somehow be worthy of her, but that wasn’t going to be how it ended. Piecing his life back together wasn’t something he needed to do for someone else; he needed to do it for him. Bobbi’s love shouldn’t -  _ couldn’t _ \- be his end goal.

“I love you,” Bobbi murmured, tilting her chin forward to press their lips together. “And I hope I’ll love the person you’re becoming, too.”

“I hope you do, too.” He was still himself, just becoming the best version of him. The version who didn’t lean on Bobbi so much that she broke, and the version who could understand that Bobbi was fiercely independent and didn’t want to need him. 

“I love you,” Hunter added, almost as an afterthought. That was never a question - every version of him loved her.

Love, though, was just the beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

An annoying ringing sound wormed her way into her consciousness, and Bobbi groaned, burying her head into the pillow. “Babe, phone?” 

Hunter was silent, but she was loathe to answer it herself. If Raina was on the other end of the line, Bobbi was going to snap. She patted the bed next to her, searching for her not-actually-ex-husband but coming up empty-handed. “Lance?” Frowning, Bobbi lifted her head and cracked open her eyes.

Shit. She was in her apartment. Alone.

Sighing, Bobbi dropped her head back down and pulled a pillow over her head. The phone gave another loud trill. “Go away,” she said, her voice muffled. Miraculously, the ringing stopped. 

She’d forgotten she’d stayed late at the office and had ended up crashing here last night. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Her vision had been blurry with exhaustion and  Hunter had long since texted her goodnight, but she’d forgotten how much she hated waking up without him.  The noise she made next was definitely not a whimper, because she was a grown woman who could handle anything, including her stupid, horrible job, a complicated personal life, and appearing on a nationally televised baking contest. 

Bobbi gasped and sat straight up. It was Saturday. She fumbled for her phone, relieved to see  Hunter’s name next to the missed call and a half a dozen text messages. She pressed send, and pushed her hair out of her face, squinting at the clock beside the bed. Oh, thank god, she wasn’t late yet.

“Morning, love,” Hunter answered.

His low timbre always relaxed her, and she felt the knot in her shoulders begin to unwind. “Hey, sorry, I thought you were Raina.”

He chuckled. “I figured. You weren’t answering my texts. What time did you get in?”

“Two?” Bobbi yawned.

Hunter let out a sigh, but the lecture she was expecting didn’t materialize. “Flight’s at eight. You need me to grab breakfast?”

“Coffee?” Bobbi asked hopefully.

“And coffee. I’m about a half-hour out.”

“Perfect,” Bobbi said gratefully, tossing the covers back. 

“Missed you last night,” he said.

Bobbi smiled, warmth spreading through her limbs. “Missed you, too. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“And then you’re stuck with me all weekend.”

“My worst nightmare,” Bobbi deadpanned.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, considering the competition.”

Getting up, Bobbi laughed and headed for the bathroom, trying to remember if her toothbrush was here or at Hunter’s. This two-house thing was getting annoying. “Did you figure out your brownies?”

“Yes, and I’m not telling you anything so stop fishing.”

“I can’t believe you won’t share your secret brownie recipe with your own wife.” Bobbi made a face in the mirror at the state of her hair and turned on the shower. 

“Is this the same wife who used up all the butter in the house and forgot to tell me?”

“No, your other wife, the perfect one.”

Hunter snorted. “Didn’t think you knew about her.”

“Hey!” Bobbi put one hand on her hip, trying to keep the smile out of her voice and knowing she was failing miserably. The phone beeped, telling her there was another incoming call, but she ignored it.

“Go pack. I’ll be there soon. Oh, and I have your toothbrush.”

“Thank you,” Bobbi said gratefully. “Drive safe.” She paused for a moment, savoring the words on the tip of her tongue before she said them. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Hunter replied, his voice warm.

“Don’t forget the coffee. Maybe with a side of coffee.”

“Goodbye, Bob,” he said pointedly.

“And coffee,” she added quickly as he hung up.

The phone beeped again and Bobbi stuck her tongue out at it as Raina’s name popped up. She was so not answering that. Raina knew Bobbi was off the grid on the weekends, and anything the office could possibly need was in the files she’d worked her ass off getting organized this week. Sure, maybe it’d taken her a little longer than usual since she’d been watching chocolate molding videos the whole time, but she didn’t feel guilty about that in the slightest. She was supposed to be on vacation, dammit, and she really didn’t care how important the client was. They were probably guilty anyway. The ones who could afford Gonzales’s firm all were. 

Bobbi pushed work firmly from her mind as she stripped and climbed in the shower. Today, she was going to bake, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

The whole pomp and circumstance of marching out to the tent was lost on Hunter at this point in the competition, or maybe he was just distracted. Bobbi was deep in conversation with Elena at the front of the line, while Hunter was at the back next to Davis. Between them, Fitz and Jemma were chattering up a storm about temperatures and conversions he couldn’t even hope to follow. Right now, his head was too full of possibilities he’d locked away as hopeless until a couple of weeks ago.

Bobbi’s hair caught the sunlight, shining gold, and when she looked back to find him watching, the smile she gave him made his heart stutter in his chest. He’d nearly bitten through his tongue trying to keep from commenting on her late nights at work this week, and Idaho had gotten an earful Friday when Bobbi had texted to say she wasn’t sure she’d make it back home, but he couldn’t stand the thought of driving her away again, not when things were going so well. Not when she was looking at him like he’d done something much dirtier than provide coffee and a shoulder to nap on during their flight.

“Good week?” Davis asked.

Hunter lifted a shoulder, his eyes still on Bobbi. “Pretty good.”

“Hey, tell Bobbi her idea for the dinosaur fossil cake was awesome, the kids went crazy over it.”

The thought of Bobbi helping plan a kid’s party made Hunter feel warm all over. They’d discussed children briefly, back before they’d gotten married and it’d felt like they had all the time in the world to plan their future, but beyond agreeing it’d be nice to have one, they’d never been able to pin down the timing. “I’ll tell her,” he said. 

“Ready for the first bake?”

Hunter managed to refocus on the man beside him and shoved his wild imaginings to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t do any good to forget his marriage wasn’t still on shaky ground. Things weren’t perfect, and they likely never would be, but they were better. They just had to take things one step at a time. Step one: enjoy this weekend with his wife, who had miraculously decided not to divorce him.  “Should be fun,” Hunter replied. 

“I never thought my kids would turn down chocolate,” Davis said with a laugh. “But I think they finally overdosed this week. They were begging for fruit in their pancakes yesterday.”

Hunter grinned as they entered the tent and found himself at a baking station between Davis and Fitz, with Bobbi, Elena, and Jemma across the aisle. The only thing missing was Daisy.  He still didn’t agree with the judging last week, since flavor was such a subjective thing, but he was pretty sure even Bobbi couldn’t finagle a second miracle comeback. He sighed. The tent was going to be much quieter without Daisy’s infectious laugh.

“Good morning, bakers!” Joey said from the front of the tent, as cheerful as ever.  “Congratulations on officially making it past the halfway point, and good luck to all of you this round.” 

Tuning the host out, Hunter began to organize his ingredients, carefully testing his salt and sugar to make sure nothing was amiss (though he suspected now that Grant was gone, everything would run smoothly) and poking at the flavoring bottles at the end of his station.

Bobbi was leaning on her counter, head propped on her hand and an empty mug dangling from her fingertips, which he suspected was going to be filled with coffee before she did anything else. She glanced over and caught him watching, guiltily hiding the mug behind her back as he shook his head, suppressing a smile.

“Did you hear what the temperature is supposed to be this weekend?” Fitz asked nervously behind him.

Hunter glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Suppose we’ll be making use of the fridges.”

“Do you think they made sure they’re all working?”

Making a mental note to check the nearest one, Hunter nodded. “No doubt.”

Fitz nervously tapped on his flour jar. “Yeah. Hey, what kind of brownies are you making?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hunter saw Bobbi perk up. He leaned over the counter toward Fitz and lowered his voice. “Crunchie-flavored. Mint, I’m thinking.”

A grin spread across Fitz’s face. “Fantastic.”

Hunter beamed. “I thought so.” He shot Bobbi a wink and she narrowed her eyes at him before lifting her chin and marching to the back of the tent where the coffee maker was. Mint and chocolate were one of her favorite flavor combinations, but basing it on his favorite candy bar had been a stroke of brilliance if he said so himself. He couldn’t wait to surprise her with it.

* * *

“Come on,” Bobbi muttered, glaring at her pan and waiting for just the right moment to flip her crepe. While her brownies had been a hit—who didn’t love s’mores?—Hunter had stolen the show with his, and he’d been entirely insufferable about it, presenting her with one after the judging and sauntering off in a way that made her want to both drag him to their room and throw the stupid brownie at the back of his head.

Luckily, she hadn’t thrown the brownie, because it’d been damn delicious. Unfortunately, they also had to finish the technical bake before she could drag him anywhere.

Her baking station was littered with bowls and she was pretty sure she had chocolate in her hair, but at least she had everything almost ready to go. The ganache she’d saved for last, and if she could just get through these last couple of crepes she’d be ahead of schedule for once. Twenty damn layers. Of course Melinda May would come up with a chocolate cake challenge that involved twenty layers.

“Bobbi?” Izzy’s voice startled her, and Bobbi’s head jerked up.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a call for you.”

Izzy’s voice was low and calm, but Bobbi could see the worry in her eyes. “What?”

“On the emergency line.” 

Bobbi straightened, pulling her crepe from the heat. Fuck, there went that one. “Who is it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from cracking. No one was allowed to have their cell phones in the tent, so hers was up in her room, like usual. The list of people who knew the number to reach her when she was on the set was incredibly short, and Hunter was here, which left her parents.

Izzy grimaced. “Don’t know, sorry, I’m just the messenger.”

Wiping her hands on her apron, Bobbi stepped out from behind her counter and shook her head at Hunter, who was watching curiously, before she hurried out of the tent after Izzy. There was no need to worry him if it turned out to be nothing.

Izzy’s long strides ate up the ground between the tent and the hotel, and she didn’t try to chat, for which Bobbi was insanely grateful. Her head was a swirl of rearranging her baking strategy to finish on time, and a thousand horrible scenarios she didn’t want to contemplate. By the time they reached the tiny office someone had commandeered for the production staff, Bobbi’s heart was in her throat. Izzy ushered her in, nodding at the phone with a blinking button indicating someone on the other end of the line, and closing the door behind Bobbi.

Taking a deep breath, Bobbi picked up the phone and hit the button. “Hello?”

“There’s a problem with the Walker file,” Raina’s crisp voice came through, and Bobbi was momentarily speechless.

“Excuse me?” Bobbi asked incredulously.

“Gonzales needs -”

“How the hell did you even get this number?” Bobbi hissed.

“Your father,” Raina said, sounding smug. “He was extremely sympathetic after I explained what a mess you left for us to sort through. Apparently, he didn’t know you were still, as he put it, ‘wasting your time on that stupid cooking contest’.”

The worry in Bobbi’s stomach turned to molten rage and her grip on the handset tightened. “So, there’s no emergency.”

“Of course there’s an emergency! I just told you, the Walker file is a mess and Gonzales needs it straightened out ASAP.”

Bobbi’s temples began to throb. “I had everything set to go before I left, so if it’s a mess, that’s your own damn fault, not mine.”

“Something new came up,” Raina said nonchalantly.

“Then I’ll deal with it when I get back.”

“Very funny. I’ll schedule a call with Mr. Walker this afternoon. Apparently, he has some concerns about -”

Bobbi pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, feeling the weight of everything settle on her shoulders. This was the first vacation she’d taken since she’d been promoted and she’d really been looking forward to taking a break, but she hadn’t expected to come face to face with just how much she hated her job and her clients.

Every time she’d driven into the city this week, she’d ended up in a foul mood, locking herself in her office and ignoring everyone until she could go back home again. The only things she looked forward to nowadays were these weekends, baking, and spending time with her husband—not necessarily in that order.

Dammit, first she hadn’t been able to go through with the divorce and now she was rethinking her whole career.

She put the phone back to her ear, though Raina apparently hadn’t noticed her absence. “- charity donations, but Gonzales said there was a similar issue in the Hastings case and -”

“I don’t think you heard me correctly,” Bobbi said. “I am not coming in today or tomorrow. For the thousandth time, I am on vacation.”

“Maybe you’re not hearing me,” Raina said tartly. “You think you’re special just because your father was somebody? We could find someone to fill your position in a second. Some of the junior partners are dying to have a crack at this case, but for some reason, Gonzales wanted to give you one last chance. If you screw this up, you can kiss your job goodbye. We don’t have time for you to find yourself or whatever the hell it is you’re doing. How soon can you be here?”

“Never,” Bobbi retorted, shocked as the word left her mouth.

There was silence at the other end of the line. “Excuse me?” Raina finally asked.

A chill ran down Bobbi’s spine as she realized what she was saying, even if it was the right decision. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to work without a vague sense of dread hanging over her, or the last time she’d felt anything but relief when she walked out of the building again. She’d spent so many nights in her stupid, empty apartment baking cookies and muffins and cakes, chasing the peace she’d felt in her old kitchen when Hunter had been there beside her. 

She should have seen this coming months ago. Hunter was going to gloat about it forever.

“I said,” Bobbi repeated, straightening her spine. “I’m not coming back. Ever.”

“You can’t just-”

“I am, and I did. I’ll send Gonzales my official resignation. Don’t call me here again.” Bobbi slammed down the phone with more force than necessary and drew in a shaky breath. She braced herself against the desk for a moment, feeling a little nauseous.

She flung the door open to find Izzy hovering on the other side. “What do you need?” Izzy asked immediately.

Bobbi just shook her head. She must look awful if the expression on Izzy’s face was anything to go by. “No, it’s fine,” Bobbi said, heading for the stairs. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Raina was blowing up her cell phone right now, and the last thing Bobbi wanted was a thousand messages waiting for her tonight. 

“Bobbi…”

“I need a minute, okay?” Bobbi snapped. Her chest felt too tight and she wanted to punch something as the enormity of what she’d just done sank in. Relief mingled with fear as she climbed the stairs.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

* * *

For the first five minutes after Bob had followed Izzy out of the tent, Hunter had tried to remain calm. She hadn’t been bleeding or injured and whatever was going on, they’d clearly expected her to be right back since the crew hadn’t touched her baking station. As the minutes ticked on, however, his anxiety kicked up a notch. Every few seconds, he glanced toward the entrance of the tent while he finished his last few crepes and began to layer them with the hazelnut filling. He spotted Izzy the second she returned, but Bobbi wasn’t with her. Hunter straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel, and Izzy jerked her chin at him.

Dropping the towel, Hunter headed for the front of the tent without a backward glance, on full alert. “Where’s Bobbi?” he asked.

Izzy headed across the lawn toward. “She got an emergency phone call, I’m not sure who from, and then she headed upstairs.” Izzy gave him a wry smile. “You two are really good at not talking, you know that?”

Hunter snorted. “Yeah, we’re aware.” 

“I just want to know if we need to arrange a flight or something.” Izzy’s brow furrowed. “She didn’t… it looked like it was pretty bad news.”

“I’ll let you know,” Hunter said as they headed inside. 

Izzy stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I can ask her if you want, but last week it seemed like you two had worked out a few things.”

“We’re trying,” Hunter said.

Izzy patted his shoulder. “Good. Let me know what I can do to help.”

“Thanks.” Hunter gave her a small smile before heading up, taking the stairs two at a time. He headed for his room since Bobbi hadn’t even bothered to pretend she was staying anywhere but with him, and he took a deep breath before entering.

Just in time to almost catch a cell phone to the forehead. 

Hunter stepped back, and his hand instinctively reached for a non-existent weapon while Bobbi stared, her eyes wide and her hands over her mouth. He barely heard her whispered “fuck” over the pounding of his pulse in his ears, but as phone clattered to the floor by his feet, he managed to draw in a breath, hold it, and then blow it out again, counting to ten.

“I’m sorry,” he registered her saying as he repeated his breathing pattern. Her hands were stretched out in front of her, palms up and empty, and her face was pale. “Lance, I didn’t know you were there.”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “I know, it’s okay.” He took a few steps in her direction, forcing his legs to move and pushing through his overreaction. “How are you?”

She looked confused as he gently grasped her upper arms and rubbed them soothingly.  “I’m…you sure you’re okay? You hate being surprised.”

Hunter lifted one shoulder. “I still don’t like it, but I’ve been working on it.”

Her worried expression softened. “You really have, haven’t you?”

“Bob,” Hunter said. “Stop deflecting. What’s going on?”

She wrinkled her nose, staring at a spot well below his chin. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Hunter waited for a beat, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Who called?”

"Raina.”

“What? How?”

“On the emergency line. My dad gave her the number.”

“Of course he did,” Hunter muttered, letting that go for now.

“Gonzales wanted me to come back in.”

“Now?”

Bobbi nodded. “So, I quit.” Hunter froze, his hands still on her arms, and felt Bobbi begin to shake as she let out a hysterical laugh. “Oh my god, I quit,” she said. “What the hell am I going to do?” Her breath was coming short and fast, and while Hunter had absolutely no idea how to respond to the news of her quitting besides throwing a bloody parade, he definitely knew how to handle a panic attack.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said soothingly, rubbing his thumbs across her biceps. “Take a breath in for me, Bob, slowly.” He demonstrated, drawing breath in and listening to her try and do the same. “Hold for a few seconds,” he said. “Now out again, nice and long.” He blew out a breath loud enough for her to hear, watching her closely, and then started the cycle over again.

At some point, she dropped her head down to the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as they breathed. Everything was quiet and still, and the scent of her shampoo filled his nose.

“Did you learn this in therapy?” Bobbi asked, her voice muffled against his throat.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about the phone. I was blocking all the work numbers.”

Hunter huffed out a laugh. “Sounds appropriate.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m sorry, Bob.”

She lifted her head. “You don’t mean that, but thanks.”

He leaned in and gave her a lingering kiss, tasting chocolate and mint and Bobbi. “I know that must have been hard for you.”

Bobbi curled her arms around his neck and kissing him more firmly, humming against his lips before pulling back. “I think the scariest thing was that it was really easy.”

Hunter smiled. “Was it?”

“Weirdly so.” Bobbi made a face. “I should’ve known I wanted to leave when I decided to take time off for this show, shouldn’t I?”

Hunter tried not to be too hurt that it wasn’t him that’d finally tipped her hand since, in a roundabout way, he’d contributed to her ending up here. “You worked hard to get that job. I imagine it’s not easy to let go. And I hate to bring this up, but we’ve probably only got a few minutes if you want to try and finish your cake.”

Bobbi’s eyes went wide. “Oh, fuck.”

“Come on,” Hunter stepped back and held out a hand. “Mine’s almost done and then we’ll slap yours together.”

Bobbi linked their fingers together as they headed out the door. “At least I’ve still got this,” she said.

“I am quite a catch.” 

She rolled her eyes, but at least he’d finally gotten a smile out of her. “I meant the competition. I’m unemployed, Lance. What the hell am I going to do when this is over?”

“Remember to buy butter?”

Bobbi elbowed him as they headed for the elevator. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Doubtful.”

* * *

Bobbi collapsed at the table in the dining room and dropped her head down onto her crossed arms, groaning. They’d had dinner while the cakes were being judged, before being trooped back to the tent to film their reaction shots, and she’d managed to choke down a little food that wasn’t made of chocolate before her appetite had fled completely. 

“Sorry,” Elena said, sounding sympathetic as she sat down beside her. “I really think they should have given you a little extra time to finish.”

Lifting her head, Bobbi attempted a smile. “Thanks. It probably wouldn’t have been fair to everyone else, though.”

“At least they thought it tasted good?” Elena said.

Bobbi propped her chin on one hand. “I still came in last.”

“I can’t believe Melinda counted the layers of every single cake. That’s stone cold.” Elena said, sounding admiring. “And they liked your brownies, you’re in the running.”

“God, I hope so.” Bobbi felt like she’d done nothing but leave a trail of destruction behind her today. “If I don’t pull off something great tomorrow, I’m through.”

Elena patted her arm. “You will.”

“I can’t believe I even made it this far,” Bobbi admitted. “I didn’t expect to. Hey, did your brownies really have cheese in them?”

Elena laughed. “Queso Fresco, yes. I’m not sure they were a hit with Melinda, but at least they were memorable. Everyone at work loved them.”

“You’re with a non-profit, right?” Bobbi asked.

“ Yes _ . _ I do some translating, but mostly I help kids apply for college scholarships and grants.” A smile bloomed on Elena's face while she spoke that made Bobbi incredibly jealous.

“That sounds amazing.”

“It is, most of the time. Probably not as exciting as being a lawyer, but I like it.”

Bobbi let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know if exciting is the right word. Stressful, maybe. Depressing, if you believe in things like truth and justice and all that crap.”

Elena regarded her curiously. “If you don’t like it, why do it?”

“I don’t, not anymore.” Bobbi shrugged, though her heart was pounding. Saying it out loud made it feel so real.

“Oh.” Elena looked surprised. “What will you do now?”

Lifting one shoulder, Bobbi spotted Hunter passing by the door, two beers and an ice bucket in his hand. He lifted the beers and tilted his head toward the elevator before disappearing, and Bobbi smiled. “This, I guess, until they kick me out, and then…I don’t know. Convince Hunter we should open a bakery to keep me busy?” Bobbi laughed and stood.

Elena didn’t join in Bobbi’s laughter. “Now that sounds exciting, and I bet he wouldn’t take much convincing.” She winked. “ _ Él está tragado.  _ Good luck. _ ” _

“Thanks. See you in the morning.” Bobbi felt strangely lighter as she headed up to their floor, opting for the stairs. She was both tired and exhilarated, and the last thing she wanted was to get stuck in the elevator without Hunter to keep her company. He’d left the door to their room slightly ajar, and she slipped through it to find him opening one of the beers. He spotted her and popped the top off the second one, passing it over. “Thank you, I needed this.”

“I know.” Hunter kicked off his shoes and settled on the bed, his back against the headboard. He held out a hand in invitation. “Looked like you were having an intense conversation, I didn’t want to intrude.”

“It wasn’t, really.” Bobbi paused and took a sip of her beer before stepping out of her sneakers and joining him. “I told her I quit.”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “How was that?”

“Weird,” Bobbi made a face and dropped her head onto his shoulder. His hand wiggled up under her shirt and her nipples tightened in anticipation, but he just rubbed her lower back soothingly and continued to drink his beer. She snuggled a little closer, pressing her thigh against his. “Thanks for today.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“You did plenty. I never would have gotten that cake done in time.” Bobbi tipped her head back and Hunter gave her a gentle kiss, which was not exactly what she was hoping for. She narrowed her eyes.

“What?” he asked warily.

“You think I’m going to change my mind.”

“I do not!”

Bobbi set her beer down and moved to straddle his lap, glaring down at him. “You do!”

“Bob-”

“Don’t ‘Bob’ me! You haven’t said one bad thing about Gonzales or Raina or any of it since I told you what happened, and you hate that place. You used to rant about it all the time! And now, when I finally tell them to fuck off, you have nothing to say?”

Hunter looked remarkably unperturbed as he took another sip of his beer and tucked one hand behind his head. “You really want to know what I think?”

“I can’t believe I even have to ask!”

Hunter set his beer next to the ice bucket on his bedside table and settled his hands on her hips, gazing up at her. “I think they never deserved you, and they’re going to be damn sorry you’re gone. I think those wankers never appreciated how smart you were, or how hard you worked, and I hope they die lonely and miserable in their piles of money. I think you’re absolutely too good for them, and probably for me, but if I can do anything to make you happy you can be damned sure I’m going to try. Am I ecstatic you quit? Hell yes, but this isn’t about me, is it?”

Bobbi blinked at him, speechless for a moment. “Oh.”

His fingers slipped up under the hem of her shirt and stroked her stomach. “Better?”

A thrill ran through her at his touch. “A little,” she said.

One corner of Hunter’s mouth began to curl upward. “Just a little?”

Bobbi shifted in his lap and slid her hands down the front of his shirt. “You know what makes me happy?”

“I hope the answer isn’t chocolate, because I can barely stand the smell of it right now.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “No, Lance.”

His hands pushed up her shirt. “Does it involve nudity?”

“Getting warmer.” Bobbi tugged on his shirt and Hunter lifted his arms to let her pull it off him before returning his hands to her hips while she yanked off her own, leaving her in jeans and a bra. She leaned in to kiss him, loving how he matched her intensity with his own, her tongue stroking his while he undid the clasp of her bra so he could cup her breasts.

“Can it also involve whipped cream?” Hunter asked hopefully when she pulled back. He reached out and tipped the ice bucket towards her, letting her see what he’d been hiding.

A laugh bubbled out of Bobbi’s throat. “That’s much better than chocolate.”

“I thought maybe we could celebrate your freedom.”

“Thank you.” Bobbi bent to kiss him again, her heart full.

* * *

“Shite, fuck, dammit all to hell,” Fitz was muttering behind him, but Hunter didn’t have time to turn and see what was happening behind him. He could feel the sweat rolling down his back, his shirt was sticking to him, and his cake, miraculously, had so far survived the heat long enough for Hunter to carefully place his truffles around the base of his Devil’s Tower recreation.

He’d lucked out, choosing a landmark that didn’t require too many delicate chocolate elements, unlike, apparently, poor Fitz behind him who’d been trying to build the Golden Gate Bridge.

The tent was quiet as the final minutes ticked down, with just the quiet curses of the bakers whose showstoppers were slowly melting to fill the silence. Hunter glanced over at Bobbi. She had a streak of chocolate on her cheek that continued over her ear where she must have tucked back a stray strand of hair, but she looked relaxed and happy, even while she quickly piped a line of green across the top of her Green Monster.

“Oh no,” Fitz groaned as Joey entered the tent, looking somber.

“One minute, bakers,” Joey called. “Get them done!”

Hunter finished artfully piling his truffle boulders and smoothing the lines up the side of the tower before transferring it to his cake stand just in the nick of time. Across the aisle, Bobbi looked relieved and she shot him a smile that showed off her dimples when she caught him watching.

“Oh no,” Jemma echoed as her chocolate Statue of Liberty began to list to one side, melting in the heat.

Bobbi moved out from behind her counter and put an arm around Jemma’s shoulders. “It looks amazing.”

“It’s a mess!” Jemma said, sounding distressed.

“It’s fine, just put a little astronaut down there on his knees, screaming, and it’s totally fixed,” Bobbi said.

Jemma let out a giggle and Hunter grinned, leaning on his counter. He wanted to pinch himself, this all felt so surreal. If anyone had told him a month ago that going on some baking show was going to be exactly what he and Bobbi needed to figure things out, he would have laughed in their face.

Maybe they didn’t know exactly where they were heading yet, but he was sure it was the right direction.


	8. Chapter 8

“Honey, I’m home,” Hunter called. Bobbi padded down the hallway, unable to stop herself from smiling when she saw her husband.

“I would say dinner’s in the oven, but I might have messed that bit up,” she admitted as he pulled her in for a quick kiss. She had spent most of the day on her laptop, scrolling through real estate listings instead of doing anything on her to-do list. Bobbi had meant to go through the papers she had dumped in the home office and unpack more of her boxes, but real estate had been infinitely more interesting.

“Who needs dinner when I have dessert?” Hunter looked her up and down appreciatively. “My clothes look good on you.”

Bobbi’s cheeks pinkened slightly. She had pulled on a pair of Hunter’s boxers and one of his old army shirts for pajamas last night and hadn’t bothered changing. She hadn’t even put on a bra, something she was sure Hunter noticed.

“How was therapy?” she asked, pointedly changing the subject. Hunter’s shoulders slumped, but Bobbi didn’t relent. He had been clear when they had gotten back together therapy was a part of his life now, and Hunter seemed to feel better after he got to talk with her about what he and Dr. Garner had discussed in his sessions.

“Tough,” he sighed. Bobbi frowned, but Hunter didn’t elaborate; he just meandered down the hall and into the kitchen. “I love the competition, but it’s not been great for my stress levels. Dr. Garner showed me some more coping things since breathing doesn’t work for everything, you know?” Bobbi nodded her agreement. “I’ll show you some later, if you want.” 

“I’d like that.” Hunter was making an effort to get his PTSD under control - _ really _ under control, not the half-assed ‘I’m dealing with it’ he’d told her before they’d divorced - and Bobbi wanted to support him in every way she could. There was definitely a learning curve there, but she was a fast learner when she wanted to be. 

“We, uh, talked some about us. Me and you, I mean, not me and Dr. Garner.” Hunter wrinkled his nose. “Gotta say, talking about our sex life with someone else, even my therapist, is really bloody weird.”

Bobbi chuckled. “It’s probably weird for him, too, babe.”

“I don’t think so. He’s always got that thoughtful therapist look on his face when he’s asking questions about it.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes at her husband, but didn’t argue with him. If Dr. Garner wasn’t weirded out talking about his patient’s sex lives, that was because he was a professional and had gotten used to it. 

“Is there anything about us I should know about?” 

Hunter thought for a moment. “Not that I can think of.”

Bobbi nodded, then paused. “Pizza for dinner?” She still wasn’t sure how to ask if he was done talking about his therapy sessions, especially not without seeming like she was prying, so her go-to strategy was asking about dinner.

“Sounds good. Can I use your laptop to order?” 

“Go for it. Don’t forget to get that cookie thing too.”

“Yes ma’am.” Hunter leaned to kiss her again before going to the living room to order their pizza. Bobbi putzed around the kitchen, wiping down the countertops. It didn’t make up for not doing anything else that day, but at least the house was a little cleaner than it had been.

“Hey, Bob?” Hunter stepped back into the kitchen, his brow furrowed. “Maybe there is something we should talk about.”

“Okay.” Bobbi couldn’t say she wasn’t worried by the sudden change of heart, but Hunter looked more confused than upset. He slid into a seat at the table; Bobbi sat across from him.

“Are you moving back in?”

“Yes?” The question seemed silly, since virtually all her possessions were in boxes stacked in the second bedroom. There wasn’t much to speak of there, since she had only taken the bare essentials with her when she moved out, but it was everything she had.

“Okay.” Hunter relaxed somewhat. “I just - I saw you were looking at real estate listings… I didn’t mean to snoop, I promise, but they were up when I went to order the pizza and I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

“We are,” Bobbi confirmed. “I was actually looking at buying a place for something else.” She chewed on her lower lip. Mentioning a bakery to Elena had seemed like a joke at the time, but the thought hadn’t left her since. Looking at places where it could be made everything seem more real, but rather than terrifying Bobbi, it excited her. Being excited about a job was an unfamiliar feeling after so long being miserable. 

“And that would be…?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy.” Before Bobbi could even think to be offended, Hunter leaned across the table, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But you’re also the love of my life, so I’m inclined to listen to whatever is going to come out of your mouth next.”

“Hunter…” The words stuck at the back of her throat.

“Listen, Bob.” Her husband stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, his tired eyes looking straight into her soul. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’ll make some comment about how nice your tits look and we can have sex before the pizza gets here. But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

Bobbi shook her head. Hunter was trying to change, and she needed to change too. Changing meant more than just quitting her job - it meant trusting him. That shouldn’t have been hard, since her heart sat squarely in his hands, but it was.

“You want to start a bakery? With me?”

Hunter stared. “You really are absolutely batshit, Barbara.” He shook his head, disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. “Neither of us have any experience running a business, or baking professionally, or _ anything _ . You’re a lawyer, I’m an army guy, we - you are _ crazy _, Bobbi Morse.” 

Bobbi knew all of that already. She raised a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. 

“Let’s do it.”

Holy shit. He had actually agreed.

_ He had actually agreed. _

Bobbi launched herself over the kitchen table, landing in Hunter’s lap with markedly less grace than she normally did. He was already reaching for her, his mouth melding against hers with a clack of teeth. Bobbi swept her tongue through her husband’s mouth, joy surging in her chest. 

“Thank you,” she murmured when she pulled away. 

“Not sure why you’re thanking me when I just told you, repeatedly, how crazy you are.” 

“You also said I was the love of your life, so I think I can forgive you.” Bobbi combed her fingers through Hunter’s hair carefully. “Because you’re mine, too, you know.”

“Am I really?”

“Shut up, you know you are.” Bobbi kissed the tip of Hunter’s nose, then his forehead. “I came back, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Hunter leaned into her touch. “Took some dumb luck and a baking competition, but you came back.”

“I’ll always come back.”

\---

Melted ice cream dripped down Hunter’s hand. He was failing miserably at keeping it from running down his arm, and Bobbi was being absolutely no help.

“I told you to get napkins.”

“And I didn’t listen to my beautiful, intelligent, always-right wife, I know,” Hunter huffed, licking a stripe of melted vanilla off his wrist. “Please, Bob?” He didn’t have the time to give her his famous puppy eyes, but admitting his wrongdoing seemed to have satisfied Bobbi. She took one of her napkins - because of course she had gotten extra - and wiped up the drip. She handed him another napkin to keep his hand from getting messy again, smirking.

“Some things never change, huh?” Bobbi knocked her shoulder against Hunter’s playfully, and he stumbled dramatically towards the surf, leaving perfect footprints in the wet sand.

“What, you always being right?” Hunter asked, returning to her side. “Me needing your help? Me getting messy? Flattering working a charm? All of the above?”

“All of the above,” she agreed. “And you being ridiculously cute, too.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Bobbi? The _ real _ Bob would never call me cute where anyone else could hear.” Hunter watched as Bobbi’s cheeks flushed, but didn’t have time to savor the sight for long before he had to return to frantically eating his ice cream so it wouldn’t keep melting all over him.

“Shut up. I call you cute all the time.”

“Call me cute in front of the cameras on Saturday and I’ll believe you.” Hunter grinned at Bobbi. There was no way she would.

“Consider it done.” Hunter stopped in his tracks, kicking up sand.

“What?” There was _ no _ way she was serious. 

“Hunter, everyone has already been subjected to me ogling your butt for the past seven weeks, I hardly think they’ll find it surprising that I find you cute.” Bobbi rolled her eyes at you. “Though I think they would be less surprised with… does it sound too juvenile if I call you sexy?”

“I think lawyers are supposed to have a more impressive vocabulary.” Hunter paused. “All seven weeks, huh?”

“You are _ such _ an asshole.”

“An asshole with an ass you like.” They were nearing the end of the strip of beach, and Hunter sighed dramatically. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can persuade you to continue this conversation in the car?”

“Nope,” Bobbi grinned. “Are you going to get ice cream all over my interior?”

Hunter shoved the rest of his ice cream cone in his mouth in response. Bobbi wrinkled her nose at him as he chomped through the last bit of the cone. They made the transition from sand to asphalt with little difficulty, and Hunter looked over his shoulder at the ocean one last time before they got out of sight completely.

“You know, this place could use more bakeries.”

“It could,” Bobbi agreed. Now that his hands weren’t occupied catching falling ice cream, Hunter reached for her, tangling their fingers together. “Cape Cod Cupcakes is nice alliteration, too.”

“Cape Cod Cupcakes? Have some creativity, Bob.” Hunter paused. “Mockingbird’s. That’s what we’ll call it.”

“That name’s already taken.”

“No it’s not. They closed three or so months ago.” Bobbi’s face fell, and Hunter squeezed her hand. “Why do you think I haven’t dragged you there already?” They both knew he was a nostalgic sap and taking Bobbi on a date to the diner where they’d met was something he’d do.

“Next you’re going to tell me Franny’s is closed, too,” Bobbi pouted as they reached the car.

“Not that I’m aware of.” Hunter shrugged. “We could drive by, maybe check?”

“Charming thought, but no.” Bobbi released his hand, but instead of opening the door like Hunter had anticipated, she dragged him in for a kiss. “I have plans for when we get home,” she murmured, nibbling his lip. Hunter’s entire body felt like it was lighting up at her touch, and he was suddenly grateful for the cool ocean breeze.

“Plans?” Hunter repeated hoarsely. “Please tell me they involve much less clothing than this.” 

“Much less,” she promised. Bobbi leaned forward to kiss him again, and Hunter could feel her smiling against his lips. “You shouldn’t have started talking about your ass.”

“As I recall, _ you _ were the one who started talking about my ass.” Hunter mumbled in between kisses. “Not that I’m complaining, because - Christ, Bob, we’re in public,” he hissed when she rolled her hips against his. “You’re a lawyer, you know this shit’s going to get us fined for public indecency.”

“That is not why I know it’ll get us fined,” Bobbi said, withdrawing with a coquettish smile. Of course it wasn’t; this wasn’t their first time making out in a less-than-opportune environment. There had even been that one time in Mockingbird’s bathroom…

“Get in the car,” Hunter managed, reaching behind her to yank the door open. He ducked around to the other side, sliding into the driver’s seat.

Bobbi was already leaning across the center console to pull him into another kiss. Her mouth tasted like chocolate and sea salt and if sunsets had a flavor, she would taste like that, too. Bobbi tugged at his hair gently, and Hunter groaned.

“We aren’t teenagers anymore, Bob, we can wait to get home,” Hunter protested weakly, reaching his hand out to palm her chest. Fuck, she was gorgeous in the half-light of the dying sun and the illuminated streetlights.

“I’m just kissing my husband. What’s the problem with that?” Bobbi pulled back just enough to give him an innocent smile, the effect entirely ruined by her kiss-swollen lips.

“Yes, and if our daughter said the same thing about her boyfriend it definitely wouldn’t sound like an excuse.” Hunter rolled his eyes, chasing Bobbi’s lips for one more tiny kiss.

Then his brain registered what he had said. He forced himself not to start stuttering out apologies or retractions. Bobbi looked stunned, but not angry.

“...Our daughter, huh?” she asked, leaning back in her seat.

“If we have a son we would also be mad at him, because we’re feminists who realize it takes two people to have unprotected sex,” Hunter replied, fighting to keep his voice even. “But either way, car sex is not something we want to pass onto our children.”

He turned the key in the ignition.

“It’s not like sex location preference is hereditary,” Bobbi replied. Her voice also had a strange quality to it, like she couldn’t quite believe they were talking about this. “Even if we were theoretically to conceive a child having sex in the car, they would never know.”

“Unless we told them.” Hunter maneuvered the car out of the parking lot, still not daring to look at Bobbi.

“Why, pray tell, are we informing our hypothetical child of the location of their conception?” 

“Good point.” Hunter paused. “So you’re not freaked out about the whole kids thing?”

“Definitely not as freaked out as I expected to be.” Bobbi blew out a breath. “I mean, our plan -” She cut herself off with a snort. “Our plan didn’t work out. But if it had, I mean, right now we’d probably be trying, and… I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

“And that’s okay,” Hunter answered softly. “I didn’t mean to push you into talking about something you’re not prepared for.”

“I want to talk to you about this.” Bobbi reached for his hand, and Hunter took one off the wheel so he could hold onto her. “I want to talk to you about everything, Lance. Tonight was nice, for talking.” Yes, a real date had been nice. Living together was one thing, but spending time together outside of the house, eating ice cream on the beach… that was nice, too.

“Later, more than talking?” Hunter asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Bobbi snorted. “Yes, Hunter, I have not forgotten I want to fuck you.”

“Love you?”

“You’d better.”

\---

Bobbi was thankful this weekend was cooler than usual; she couldn’t imagine having to stand over a fryer if it was anywhere as hot outside as it normally was this time of year. She had a feeling the producers were hoping it would be warmer; shots of the contestants dunking their heads in ice water would be funny and gain a lot of viewers. So would the men taking off their shirts, though Bobbi tried not to think about that. Women ogling her husband’s naked torso was not something she needed in her head when she was trying to make donuts.

Hunter’s naked torso in general was a distracting thought, and Bobbi snuck a furtive glance over to her husband at the station across the aisle from hers. Yup, still the most attractive man on all of God’s green earth. Still fully clothed in front of the camera. All was well.

Now her dough was done kneading, too, which meant she needed to double-check her fryer’s temperature before she started shaping her balls. The oil started bubbling happily when she turned it up by a few degrees, and Bobbi returned to making her donuts. This technical challenge wasn’t that difficult, as long as people remembered how hot the oil ought to be. The relative ease of the challenge was a blessing; she hadn’t gotten as much time practicing as she had hoped, thanks to a certain handsy Brit and her inability to say no to him.

Behind Bobbi, Jemma was putting her donuts into the fryer. Bobbi winced when the oil popped loudly. Jemma definitely had the oil way too hot, and it was causing moisture to be released from the dough. That would make her donuts dry - and continue causing that godawful popping noise. Bobbi would’ve just told Jemma to turn down the heat, but this was the technical challenge and she wasn’t supposed to interact with the other bakers. 

Another pop cracked through the tent, even louder. 

If Bobbi had been anywhere else, or been anyone else, she might not have heard the whimper that came from the other side of the aisle. 

She knew that sound.

Bobbi stopped rolling her dough, turning to look at Hunter. He was a deer in headlights, frozen in place. Even from across the tent Bobbi could see his nostrils flare as Jemma’s oil popped for the third time. Bobbi waited for Hunter to push past his fear and return to the task in front of him, but he didn’t. 

Izzy made her way over to his station, but when she spoke it was obvious Hunter wasn’t hearing her.

The oil kept popping. Hunter’s chest was moving now, up and down and up and down in breaths that were too fast and shallow. Finally, whatever invisible barrier had been holding her back - maybe the weight of the cameras or the knowledge she wasn’t supposed to be talking to anyone - broke down, and Bobbi crossed the tent in four long strides.

She nudged Izzy aside gently. Bobbi knew how to handle this; she had done it a hundred times before. 

“Can I take him out?” Bobbi asked Izzy. Jemma still hadn’t figured out what was wrong and it would be a hell of a lot easier to help Hunter through this if he wasn’t in a loud, chaotic environment.

Izzy didn’t hesitate to nod. She obviously knew what was going on, even if Joey and the rest of the crew looked confused by Hunter’s sudden shift in demeanor. 

Bobbi took her husband gently by the crook of the elbow, tugging him out of the tent and into the fresh air. Hunter’s eyes were still glazed over, his breathing still too close to hyperventilation for Bobbi’s comfort. She slid her hand down from Hunter’s elbow to his hand, squeezing gently.

“Lance, you’re in North Carolina. You’re competing on a baking competition, and you’re frying donuts. The oil popped.” Bobbi swallowed back a tendril of fear. She knew what she was supposed to do - tell Hunter where he was and assure him he was safe - but every time she had to do it she was scared. She didn’t like it when Hunter was hurting, and not being able to help him beyond just being there was immensely frustrating. 

“I’m with you, and you’re safe. I need you to take a deep breath for me, or you’re going to pass out.” Hunter had always been prone to hyperventilation but his body never handed it well. Bobbi squeezed Hunter’s fingers as she breathed in, and released them when she breathed out. Hunter didn’t copy her.

“Lance, honey, are you with me?”

Hunter tilted his head down just the slightest bit, his eyes flickering to life. His gaze met Bobbi’s and she gave him a small smile. 

“Closer,” he rasped. Bobbi complied, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Deep pressure could help with panic attacks, but they could also make things much worse if the person didn’t want to be touched, so she always waited for Hunter’s go-ahead. With their chests pressed together it was much easier for Bobbi to help Hunter steady his breathing; he could feel every breath she took, and she could feel each of his.

Slowly, painfully, he went from shaking slightly and breathing much too fast to being still and semi-calm in her arms. Bobbi began swaying them back and forth slowly, a calming technique Hunter had told her about earlier that week. She probably should’ve thought of it earlier, but in a stressful situation it was always easiest to go back to what was familiar.

“‘M sorry,” Hunter whispered, tucking his head against her shoulder.

“What for?” she asked, rubbing soothing circles into the space between his shoulder blades as they continued to rock.

“Taking you away from the competition. Using you as a crutch. Being the way I am.” Each word got quieter and quieter, until Bobbi could barely hear what he was saying. Anger flared inside of her, but she fought to keep her voice calm.

“First of all, there is not _ any _ situation where I would put the competition about your wellbeing, physical, mental, or otherwise. If you believe that we need to have a serious conversation, because you are my husband and I care about you being healthy and happy more than just about anything else in the world.

“Secondly, there’s a difference between using someone as a crutch and letting them help you. When things got bad at the end, I was definitely your crutch, but this is miles away from that. You were a part of an already stressful situation when something happened to tip you over the edge. You couldn’t have helped that, or predicted it, and you’ve been doing the best you can to keep your stress levels in check. If you don’t believe me, then ask Dr. Garner. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

Bobbi separated herself from Hunter enough that she could look him in the eyes. He needed to see that what she was saying was the truth, especially for this last part. “I won’t pretend that sometimes it’s not hard to be with you. But you are my husband, and I love all of you. The good parts, the bad parts, and everything in between. You don’t have to apologize for that, because it’s a choice I made, and it’s a choice I will make over, and over, and over. Every time you ask, my answer will be the same. I choose you.”

The words felt like a weight off her chest, and Bobbi swallowed hard. Choosing to walk away from Hunter had been hard, but it had been what was better for both of them at the time - and now it was better for both of them if they were together again, because there was no way in hell she would’ve been able to lay her feelings out so plainly for anyone but him. She grounded him, but he taught her how to fly.

Hunter brushed his lips against hers, chaste and sweet. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for letting me.” She tipped her head forward to kiss him again, but was interrupted by Izzy clearing her throat.

“Are you two ready to return to the tent?”

Bobbi slowly unwound her arms from around Hunter, double-checking with him before letting go entirely. He nodded once, resolutely. 

If he was ready, she was too.

\---

The hotel room was cool and dark, exactly what Hunter needed after the day he’d had. Having a flashback coupled with a panic attack wasn’t fun, and it left him feeling shaky for hours afterwards even under the best of circumstances. Forcing himself to finish the technical wasn’t the best of circumstances - thought it was nice that Izzy had lobbied for him and Bobbi to get the time he had lost to his panic attack back instead of making them to finish their donuts in the three measly minutes that remained.

His donuts had been fine, and if the judges had noticed anything was off about him they didn’t comment. Tomorrow he would make more donuts, and then he’d go back home with Bob and finally be able to leave the hellish day behind him.

Hunter burrowed further into his stack of pillows. Bobbi had started taking a shower while he was on his call with Dr. Garner and hadn’t finished yet. He didn’t know whether the outrageously long shower was an invitation or just her decompressing, but either way he wasn’t up to joining her.

As if on cue the shower shut off. A few minutes later Bobbi emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair tied back into a bun and one of his old T shirts clinging to her damp body. With every step towards the bed she took the shirt hiked up just enough for him to see her plain white panties. Something inside Hunter stirred, but immediately settled; tonight was not the time for that.

Bobbi slid into bed next to him. Hunter rolled over until his head was in her lap, squirming so he could get comfortable. Bobbi’s hands were already in his hair by the time he settled, and she began massaging his scalp with small, light movements.

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Like shit.”

Bobbi made a soft, sympathetic noise and kept moving her hands over his head, doing everything she could to relieve even a bit of the tension he was holding onto. He buried his face in her stomach, inhaling the smell of her body wash and the fabric softener still lingering on her shirt.

“I wanted to say thanks for everything you said today,” Hunter mumbled, hoping his wife could hear him. “I tried to think of something to say back, you know, because I love you a whole lot and want to be able to tell you how much, but…”

“I don’t need you to give a speech, baby.” Bobbi rubbed two fingers down the back of his neck. “I know.”

“I don’t deserve you, Bobbi Morse.”

“Love isn’t about what we deserve, Lance. If it was I don’t think anyone would love or be loved.”

Hunter took a moment to process that. He nodded slowly. Most people sucked, and if suckish people didn’t deserve love, then the whole world was out of luck. Leave it to Bobbi to figure that out.

“You’re my favorite person,” he whispered.

Bobbi might’ve responded - he didn’t know, because he was fast asleep.

\---

Bobbi was tired, but Hunter looked dead on his feet after finishing the last challenge of the weekend. She was all too happy to let him rest his head on her while they sat waiting for the judges to finish deliberating.

The weekend hadn’t been anything like she expected. In the flurry of it all she hadn’t even managed to call Hunter cute in front of the camera like she had promised. She pressed a kiss to his temple, a silent apology for her oversight. If she made it through to next week she would find a way to sneak it in. 

Next week wasn’t certain, though - for either her or Hunter. Neither of them had done as well as they hoped on the last challenge, which she was going to blame on the effects of the day previous. If either of them went home this week, though, Bobbi wasn’t going to be upset; making it as far as they had was still insane when she stopped to think about it. They had both lasted long enough so they could repair their relationship, too, which was a blessing in itself.

Hunter removed his head from her shoulder when Melinda and Robbie walked in. He twisted his fingers through Bobbi’s, and Bobbi reached for Simmons on her other side.

“This week challenged you all immensely,” was Bobbi imagining it or did Izzy’s eyes slide to Hunter?, “but one of you especially rose to the challenge. The All-Star Baker this week is Davis.”

Bobbi blinked. Most of the time it was hard for her to remember Davis was still in the competition, since he was so quiet.

“Unfortunately, despite their best efforts, one of our bakers is going to have to go home this week. And the baker is… Elena.”

Bobbi’s chest clenched in something between relief and sadness. She was glad both she and Hunter had made it on, but every week it was harder and harder to see people go. Elena had inspired her to actually chase her dream, in more ways than one, and seeing her leave was rough.

“Keep in touch,” Bobbi murmured as she hugged the other woman close. Elena nodded, giving Bobbi a watery smile, before moving on to hug everyone else who was gathered around her.

Bobbi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Now she wouldn’t be able to get out of calling Hunter cute on camera.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you planning on setting the neighborhood on fire?” Bobbi asked from her lounge chair. A pair of sunglasses hid her eyes but the smile tugging up one side of her mouth gave her away.

Hunter defiantly squirted one last stream of lighter fluid on the charcoal. “Do I critique your negotiating skills?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a degree in barbeque.”

“It’s on the American citizenship test, you don’t want to know what happens if you don’t pass.”

Bobbi’s laugh was bright and clear, and love swelled in his chest as she giggled in a way he hadn’t heard in months. Striking a match, he touched it to several spots and quickly stepped back as flames shot up out of the grill. “No bourgeoisie charcoal chimney for you, I see,” she said.

“If you actually want to eat sometime tonight, no.”

“Thanks for offering to cook.” Bobbi got up and leaned against him, kissing his cheek while they waited for the flames to die down.

“You’ve done it every other night this week.”

“Perks of being unemployed.” Her tone was cheerful, which meant she must have found a couple more Cape Cod listings. She’d thrown herself headlong into this bakery idea, which shouldn’t surprise him because that was exactly how Bobbi conquered everything. He’d always loved that about her, even when it’d driven them apart. But now there were steaks resting on the counter and his wife was smiling and the house felt like a home again. He snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her closer.

“Can you believe we’re heading to the semi-finals tomorrow?”

“Nope.” Bobbi patted his chest. “You, yes. Me? That’s pure dumb luck.”

“Barbara Ann Morse-Hunter, you shut your mouth. You’ve been an All Star baker and pulled at least three smiles out of Melinda May. Don’t pretend you’re no good at this baking stuff.” He kissed her nose as she wrinkled it, and then her mouth before she could protest, cracking open one eye to check on the grill. Maybe he’d gone slightly overboard with the starter, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

Pulling back slightly, Bobbi hooked her arms around his neck. “You want me to get the steaks?”

“Give it a few more minutes.”

“Uh huh,” she said, sounding amused. She tucked her head against his shoulder, and they stood for a moment, watching the flames, until her head suddenly popped back up again. “I have an idea.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “S’mores will ruin your appetite.”

Bobbi snorted a laugh. “Not s’mores. Hang on.” She kissed him swiftly and headed back inside, leaving him on the back deck with just the grill for company. It wasn’t nearly as fun as Bob. He  poked at the charcoal with a pair of tongs and the fire flared up again.

She was back a few minutes later, her sunglasses pushed up on her head to hold her hair back, and her expression uncharacteristically nervous. She was carrying a sheaf of papers that he recognized instantly, and his heart dropped to his shoes. “Bob, are those…?”

“I know it’s stupid to hang onto them,” Bobbi said, moving closer. “I just…shredding them seemed so anticlimactic. So, here.”

Hunter blinked at her as she thrust them in his direction. “What?” he said inanely.

Bobbi shook the papers. “Fire. Paper. Whoosh?” she said.

“You want to set our divorce paperwork on fire.”

“Yes?”

Hunter laughed, dragging her into an embrace so she couldn’t see how watery his eyes had gotten, and dropped several kisses on her face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Bobbi slipped her hand in his and turned toward the grill, her eyes shining a bit suspiciously, and dropped the pile of paperwork into the flames. They took a second to catch, the edges blackening and curling inwards until the flames rose again engulfing the pile, and a weight Hunter hadn’t even known was there lifted from his shoulders.  He poked at the paper bits, making sure none escaped, and Bobbi squeezed his hand. “There,” she said. “That’s much better.”

* * *

“This is utterly monstrous,” Hunter groused under his breath as he passed by Bobbi’s baking station. He swiped at his sweaty face with a towel and tucked it away in his back pocket. “I thought it was supposed to be cooler this week.”

“Ugh, I think this is worse than Boston humidity.” Bobbi pinched a bit of her blouse between her fingers and flapped it vigorously. Hunter’s eyes dropped to her chest and it was nice to know she wasn’t the only one distracted by damp, sticky shirts. “The patisserie’s going to melt the second we pull it out of the fridge.”

“What filling did you decide on?” Hunter asked, peering at the green mixture in her whirling mixer.

Bobbi smacked his hand as he reached for a tasting spoon. “Don’t you have work to do?”

He gave her an exaggerated pout. “I share everything with you.”

“Except your secret brownie recipe.”

“I’m not giving up the guaranteed-forgiveness brownies.”

Bobbi arched an eyebrow. “What are you planning on doing wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hunter said. “But I’m sure I will at some point, and I’ll need leverage.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.” He leaned on the end of her counter and gave her a grin that almost made her forget where they were, except that Izzy was bearing down on them with a cameraman in her wake.

“This bake too easy for you, Hunter?” Izzy asked cheerfully. “I’ll be sure and mention that to Melinda.”

“I’m going,” he said, sidling back to the station in front of Bobbi’s.

“I think he’s trying to distract you.” A tiny smile flitted across Izzy’s face.

“Well, joke’s on him because his cute butt’s been distracting me this whole time,” Bobbi said, her voice just loud enough to carry.

Hunter whirled around, and Izzy clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Barbara!” Hunter sounded scandalized. 

Jemma tittered across the aisle, and Davis, from his station positioned next to Bobbi’s, craned his neck as Hunter shook his head and turned back to his pastry. “It is pretty cute,” Davis agreed. Bobbi arched an eyebrow and Davis lifted his hands in surrender. “Which I will not comment on further.”

“Thank you,” Bobbi said while Hunter’s shoulders shook with laughter.

“Whatever you’re working on, it smells delicious,” Izzy said, probably trying to save at least some of this conversation from ending up on the editing room floor.

Bobbi glanced over to where Hunter was diligently chopping up handfuls of bright strawberries and pulled out the bottle of rum she’d hidden in one drawer. “It’s mojito-inspired,” she whispered.

Izzy didn’t hide her laughter this time, and the camera followed Bobbi’s hand while she spiked her filling, hiding the rum again before Hunter glanced over his shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me,” Izzy said, giving her a wink.

The rest of the signature bake time flew by, and, surprisingly, nearly everyone’s sfogliatelle held together long enough for Melinda and Robbie to taste them. Robbie had frowned over the lack of layers in Jemma’s, and then snagged a second one of Bobbi’s on his way out of the tent, which was a very good start to her day.

The technical was a raspberry religieuse, which was made up of a bunch of intricate layers that had to be assembled in a very particular way. The choux pastry was simple enough to whip up though, and Bobbi suspected the humidity was actually helpful, though Jemma looked too frazzled after her critique for Bobbi to confirm it with her.

They finished around the time the afternoon shadows came creeping across the lawn toward the tent, and Bobbi gulped down a bottle of water, trying to make up for all she’d lost over the course of the day.

“Holy Christ,” Hunter said as they headed for the hotel lobby. The back of their hands brushed together, but it was hot enough to deter any actual touching. “You still want to go out tonight?”

“I think Jemma might need it,” Bobbi said.

“I can’t believe they dinged her on the icing color. Melinda’s been absolutely brutal this week.”

“You’re bummed she didn’t like your strawberry rhubarb sfogliatelle, aren’t you?”

“It’s a classic! She loves classics!”

Bobbi reached over to run a soothing hand across Hunter’s shoulders before stopping herself. They both grimaced. “Shower first,” she declared.

“Dibs,” Hunter said, picking up his pace.

“You can’t call dibs,” Bobbi said, trying to move faster without actually putting any effort into it.  Good lord, it was hot. “It was my idea!” she called to his retreating back.

“I’ll save you a spot!” he yelled back.

* * *

Hunter was lounging on the bed, half-asleep, when his phone chimed for the third time in as many minutes. “Bob,” he called over the sound of the hairdryer.

“Two seconds!” she called back.

Which meant at least ten more minutes. He picked up the phone to let Daisy know, quickly shooting off a text and then setting his phone back on the bedside table. He tapped his fingers on the wooden surface and then glanced toward the bathroom door before pulling the drawer open to retrieve a small box.  He’d been carrying their damn wedding rings around with him for two weeks, trying to work out when to pop—or repop—the question and failing miserably. Every time he thought he might have found the perfect moment either words escaped him, or Bobbi distracted him, or both. It was probably more practical to wait until the weekend was over since they’d already filmed one day and the wardrobe people hated when they tried to change anything, but the rings were burning a hole in his (proverbial) pocket. 

Maybe it was a stupid thing to get hung up on, especially with all the talk about their future they’d been doing, but somehow, without the rings, it all felt nebulous, like a dream he could wake up from any moment. And Hunter desperately needed it to be real.

“Babe?” Bobbi called, and he suddenly realized the hairdryer had gone quiet.

“Sorry, what’s that?” He squeezed the box in his hand and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching.

Bobbi wandered into the room, fussing with something behind her head, and Hunter’s heart skittered in his chest as she looked up and smiled. Her hair was spilling over one shoulder, golden and shining, and the gauzy dress she was wearing left her arms bare. “Can you help with this? It’s caught.” She turned so he could see the clasp of her necklace, and stood immediately, tucking the box into his pocket.

“Here,” he said, taking the ends of the necklace and gently untangling the stray bit of hair that’d been causing the problem. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like his soap. She’d interrupted him mid-shower earlier, which was most of the reason they were running late, but watching Bobbi’s face as she came apart under his hands was one of life’s greatest pleasures and not something to be rushed. He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck before fixing the clasp and settling the necklace against her skin.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “You ready?”

“Just about.” Hunter dug the box back out of his pocket, feeling inexplicably nervous. “Maybe one last thing?”

Bobbi smoothed down his t-shirt and gave him a mischievous smile. “We’re already late.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.”

She laughed and leaned in to kiss him soundly. “God forbid I offend your delicate sensibilities. What is it?” 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, while Bobbi waited patiently. Her gaze never left his face and while he was sure she had a thousand questions ready to fire at him, her serene expression didn’t waver. Even if their time apart had been excruciating, it made every moment they were together now that much sweeter. “This,” he said, lifting the box into her line of sight.

Bobbi’s eyes widened. “I thought…” she trailed off, reaching out to touch the box, but made no move to open it. “You still have them?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t end up in the Atlantic.”

“Believe me, I considered it. Along with Oldham Pond, the Charles, over the side of the ferry from Provincetown, and pitched out the window while driving along the interstate.”

Bobbi looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face. “A very difficult choice.”

“So you can see why I hadn’t quite made it yet. Luckily for you.”

“Yeah,” she said, her tone soft. “I’m very lucky.”

The lump in Hunter’s throat was making it difficult to get any more words out, so he decided to forgo any big speeches, since he was rubbish at those anyway, and fumbled with the box for a second before getting it open. The rings were nestled inside, with Bobbi’s delicate-but-practical bands crammed beside his larger one. He dumped them into his palm before tossing the box on the bed and taking Bobbi’s hand. She stopped him before he could slip them on her finger, closing her other hand over his and making his head jerk up.

“You’re sure you want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?” she said.

The tension in Hunter’s shoulders slowly uncoiled. “I think that’s my line.”

A smile flitted across her face as she caressed the back of his hand and released him. “I do, Lance.”

Sliding one ring over her knuckle, he lifted her hand up for a kiss before following with the second. “Me too.” 

* * *

“Guys!” Daisy squealed, spinning around on her barstool. Piper, leaning against the bar next to her, lifted a hand in a casual wave. “I’m so glad you came.”  She bounced up and gave Hunter a fierce hug before letting go to wrap her arms around Bobbi and squeeze her tight. 

“Good to see you, too,” Bobbi laughed, patting her back.

“What’s your poison?” Piper called over the music. “This round’s on us.”

Hunter smirked and mouthed ‘us’ at Daisy, who elbowed him so Bobbi didn’t have to, before shaking his head. “Just a coke for me tonight.”

Piper lifted an eyebrow at Bobbi. “Margarita please,” Bobbi said. “Salt on the rocks.”

“Ooh, good choice,” Daisy said. “I want one of those next.”

“I’m not carrying you back to the hotel,” Piper said, though her tone was affectionate.

“Same goes for you,” Hunter said, slinging an arm over Daisy’s shoulders and shooting Bobbi a grin.

“I sincerely doubt one margarita is going to do me in.”

“I love that you think I’ve forgotten what a lightweight you are.”

“I am not a lightweight!” Bobbi put her hands on her hips and Daisy gasped, clapping one hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, is that a ring?” Daisy grabbed for her hand, tugging it closer for inspection. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you got married again!”

“Uh, well, technically,” Hunter said, “we just never got divorced.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Daisy said, going in for another hug that squeezed the air out of Bobbi’s lungs.

“Thanks?” Bobbi managed to squeak.

“Congrats,” Piper said, handing Hunter a glass and grinning at Bobbi over Daisy’s head before patting her on the back. “Hon, you want to let Bobbi breathe now?”

“I knew it.” Daisy beamed at them. “I totally knew it.” She took the glass Piper handed her. 

“Didn’t I tell you?”

“You did.” Piper agreed. “Here, take Jemma her drink.”

“Are the others here?” Bobbi craned her neck and spotted Fitz and Jemma at a booth, huddled together with Davis and looking at his phone.

Piper handed over a margarita and smiled. “You’re the last to arrive. The others couldn’t make it this weekend, but they swear they’ll be here for the final.”

Hunter frowned as they made their way to the booth. “They’re not inviting Grant, are they?”

“Nope,” Daisy said smugly. “Thanks to my awesome lawyer, he’s definitely not invited.”

“Remind me to thank this awesome lawyer later,” Hunter said, taking Bobbi’s hand.

“You guys are ridiculous.” Bobbi rolled her eyes.

“Look who finally arrived,” Daisy announced, setting Jemma’s drink next to mostly empty glass.

“Oh good!” Jemma beamed at them as Hunter slid into the booth, tugging Bobbi after him, and then her face fell. “This place isn’t too loud is it? I didn’t think about your -”

“It’s fine,” Hunter interrupted.

“No one asked me if I thought this place was too loud,” Fitz said, his brow furrowing.

“Fitz,” Jemma sighed. “I’ll explain later.”

“I’m lost too,” Daisy said.

“It’s nothing,” Davis said quickly, glancing in Hunter’s direction.

Beside her, Bobbi felt Hunter’s muscles tense, and she squeezed his hand, silently trying to convey he had her support, no matter how he chose to respond. “Had a bit of trouble last week with the fryer,” Hunter said, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “Triggered a PTSD episode. Don’t happen as often as they used to, but I’m still getting the hang of heading them off.”

Bobbi took a breath, trying to rein in the feelings of pride and admiration filling her chest. She was pretty sure they’d get kicked out of the bar if she climbed into Hunter’s lap and showed him just how much she loved him right then.

“Oh,” Daisy said, looking uncharacteristically serious. “That doesn’t sound like fun. I’m sorry we didn’t think to ask beforehand.” 

Piper tilted her head and her eyes slid to Bobbi, then back to Hunter. “Next time we hang out I’ll run the place past you. I hate big crowds, myself, but I usually just avoid them. It’s cool you’re figuring it out.”

“Unless it’s a crowd of dogs,” Daisy said.

“That’s a pack.” Piper grinned at her. “Totally different.”

“How’s Florida?” Davis asked.

“Hot and miserable. So, the usual,” Piper said cheerfully.

“I keep telling you, it’s nicer up north,” Daisy said, leaning her head against Piper’s shoulder.

“But all my dog walking clients are down south.” Piper kissed the tip of Daisy’s nose. “And you love the beach.” 

Daisy sighed dramatically. “True.”

“You know, we’ve got beaches up north too,” Hunter said, sounding more like himself again. “Bob and I were just on the Cape last week.”

Piper looked doubtful. “Isn’t that where Jaws lives?”

“Okay, first of all,” Bobbi said. “That was based on a fictional book. Sharks don’t go around killing people for revenge.”

“Oh no, look what you’ve started,” Hunter groaned.

“And we’re the ones wandering into their hunting grounds,” Bobbi continued, ignoring Hunter’s teasing, “all dressed up like seals. They’re just following their instincts. You’ve got a better chance of being struck by lightning than being bitten by a shark.”

“Yeah,” Davis said, setting down his beer. “But have you seen all those teeth? They’re terrifying.” 

“It’s no use arguing, she loves all kinds of bizarre things,” Hunter said. 

“That explains a lot.” Daisy grinned as Hunter narrowed his eyes at her.

Jemma buried her face against Fitz’s shoulder, giggling, while Bobbi laughed and took a sip of her drink, the tequila warming her down to her toes. “It’s nice to get out of the hotel.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jemma pushed a phone in Bobbi’s direction. “Did you see the cake Davis made for his children? He said it was your idea.”

“Oh, did you make the fossil cake?” Bobbi gasped, picking up the phone. The first couple of images were of an elaborately decorated sheetcake with multicolored frosting and tiny shovels stuck in next to exposed “bones” that looked like they were made of white chocolate. “It turned out so good!”

“Thanks,” Davis said, grinning. “The kids loved it, I’d never seen them sit at the table so long, they were excavating their little hearts out.”

The next few pictures showed several small children intent on digging into their pieces of cake. Davis appeared in a couple, smiling widely, and then suddenly Bobbi was looking at the bright, happy face of a toddler while someone helped him dig out a small chocolate bone. The smile was such a match for Davis’s, Bobbi had no doubt the kid was going to be the spitting image of his father.

A child with Hunter’s smile would have her wrapped around their finger in two seconds flat, and Bobbi was pretty sure she wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Hunter’s chin was on her shoulder, and he kissed her cheek like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Maybe he did. She smiled before passing the phone back to Davis. “They’re adorable,” she said.

“They’re a handful is what,” Davis snorted.

“Are they’re coming to the family picnic next week?” Jemma asked.

“Of course! They can’t wait to meet you guys, and they’ve got to be there for my big win.”

Jemma playfully knocked their shoulders together. “Aren’t you very confident!”

“Sorry, mate,” Hunter said. “Bob’s got this in the bag. She’s on fire this week.”

“Enough,” Bobbi said as Jemma’s smile dimmed a little. “No more baking talk. We’re here to relax.” She lifted what was left of her margarita. “To new friends.”

Everyone around the table followed suit and Hunter’s arm snuck around her waist, keeping her close. “New friends,” they chorused.

Daisy thumped her empty glass on the table a moment later. “Alright, friends, whose round is it?”

* * *

The night air was cooler on their walk back to the hotel, but not by much. There was no breeze, and the cicadas were singing loud enough to drown out the noise of the nearby highway. 

Everything was still, and Hunter’s t-shirt was sticking to his back, but Bobbi was swinging their joined hands between them while humming something off-key, and he really couldn’t care less about the weather when she seemed so happy.

“Good night?” he asked. She’d had a second margarita with Daisy, which meant she was going to sleep hard and drool on his shoulder all night. Everything was right with the world.

“It’s still too hot,” Bobbi sighed.

The main hotel building loomed in front of them as they skirted some of the construction, aided by the light of a full moon. Without the production crew to yell at them, Hunter had decided to cut across the grounds instead of the parking lot, which was bound to still be radiating heat. Davis had left the bar before them, mumbling about calling his wife and kids, while Jemma had stayed behind, too caught up in arguing with Fitz about baking soda ratios to notice them leaving.

“I left the AC on in the room,” Hunter said.

Bobbi made a face. “That doesn’t help right now.”

He tugged her closer, their joined hands grazing her hip as he leaned in. “We could take another shower,” he murmured in her ear.

“We coul-” Bobbi cut herself off with a gasp and Hunter straightened up, taking in their surroundings.

He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “What?” he asked. A pallet of tile was propping open a nearby door, and the faint scent of chlorine wafted out of the building they were next to.

“They’ve got a pool.”

“A pool under renovation.”

Her eyes slid over to him and she smirked. “An unattended pool.” Bobbi tugged on his hand. “Let’s go see.”

“You know, this is always how I end up in trouble because no one ever believes me when I tell them it was your idea.”

They picked their way past the open door into a cavernous room with a quiet, calm pool right in the center of it. There was a stack of lounge chairs in the far corner and half the surrounding tile had been ripped up, but the pool itself was quiet and clear. The ceiling was glass, letting in the moonlight and bathing the whole scene in a dreamlike glow.

A scene which included his wife shimmying out of her dress.

“Bob!” Hunter hissed.

“I promise to take all the credit for this,” Bobbi said, glancing over her shoulder. Her bra joined her dress on the ground. “Coming?” She dropped her panties and stepped out of her shoes all in one smooth motion and Hunter stood there, gawking like a complete ninny, while he tried to collect himself.  There was a gentle splash as she lowered herself into the pool, and the sigh she let out echoed through the empty room. She dove, giving him an excellent view of her bare ass for a moment, and disappeared under the water before he could protest further.

“Ah, hell,” Hunter said to no one in particular and yanked his shirt over his head.

Bobbi swam back to the side of the pool and rested her chin on folded arms, watching him undress, which wasn’t very helpful as he struggled to unzip his jeans without injuring himself. He cursed under his breath as he tried to remove his shoes at the same time, and Bobbi lifted herself half out of the water for a moment, looking like a ship’s figurehead. All those sailors must have been horny as fuck, tormenting themselves with a vision like that.

“Come on it,” she purred. “The water’s fine.”

Hunter almost fell over kicking his jeans off, and then he bent to hastily remove his socks, his cock hardening and his pulse racing. She was trying to kill him, that was the only explanation.  Smiling, she pushed herself off the wall as he sat beside the pool and dangled his legs in the water. The tile was cool against his overheated skin, and he let out a contented sigh of his own

“Good, right?” Bobbi whispered, nudging his legs apart so she could step between them and wrap her arms around his neck.

“Very good,” he said, pulling her in for a kiss. She tasted like salt and lime, and the happy noise she made as her tongue explored his mouth was enough to dispel his lingering worries. Let someone catch them. They’d get a damn eyeful but there was no doubt of the love in this room, and that alone was worth a thousand risky ventures.

One of Bobbi’s hands slid up his thigh to grasp his cock and he groaned against her lips as she slowly stroked him, coaxing his prick to full mast. “You were amazing tonight,” she murmured.

Hunter leaned back slightly so he could see her face. “Did you sneak some tequila shots when I wasn’t looking?”

Bobbi snorted. “No, Lance. And I mean earlier tonight, talking about your PTSD.”

“Oh.” Hunter leaned in to kiss her again, at a loss for words. She released his cock and he whimpered, scooting forward until it was pressed against her.

“Patience.” Bobbi nipped at his lower lip before slowly sinking into the water until she was eye-level with his needy erection. Gazing up at him, she smiled and opened her mouth, enveloping the head and gently sucking.

Hunter gasped and curled his hands around the lip of the pool, his thighs quivering as Bobbi slowly took in more of his prick, her lips and tongue teasing him while her fingers drew patterns on his inner thighs. Her eyes fell closed, and her hair feathered out in every direction, surrounding her in a golden halo while she moaned like the most debauched angel he’d ever seen.

“I love you,” he gasped, sliding a hand into her wet hair. She responded by drawing him in deeper, her mouth sliding down his straining shaft before pulling back again. Her cheeks hollowed and his eyes rolled up so he was staring dazedly at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if he could actually see the stars or if they were figments of his imagination, but he really didn’t care.  He’d almost lost this, lost her, the best friend he’d ever had, all because he’d been too stubborn to admit he needed help.

He’d never make that mistake again.

“Bob,” he breathed, his back arching as his body tensed, teetering on the edge before tipping over into bliss. His fingers tightened in her hair as she swallowed and he struggled to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment.

Finally, she released him, and he sagged back, his heart racing, while she kissed the inside of one knee and grinned up at him. “I love you, too. Now, are you coming in or what?”

* * *

“Can you tell us about your pastries?” Melinda asked Hunter, picking up a tiny square and inspecting it critically.

Bobbi wasn’t sure Hunter had even realized he’d automatically fallen into parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back and his head held just so. She propped her chin on her hand and leaned over her counter, wishing he could feel the mental hug she was sending him.

Somehow, they hadn’t been caught in the pool last night (or at least, if they had, whoever it was had enough sense to pretend they hadn’t seen anything) and it seemed like their luck was holding. Robbie and Melinda had praised her summery fruit-filled assortment of miniature pastries, and Bobbi could tell from the looks on their faces that Hunter’s baklava was making a great impression, too.

“Had a lot of amazing food while I was overseas,” Hunter said gruffly. “Thought I’d share some good memories.”

“And this one is fig?” Melinda asked, biting through the delicate crust.

“With a little honey and cardamom,” Hunter replied. 

She hummed next to him, and Bobbi held her breath as Melinda’s lips twitched up in a smile. “It’s delicious.”

The rest of the judging was a blur, and then they were all lined up again, just the four of them now, and Bobbi was clutching Hunter’s hand so tightly she was sure she was cutting off his circulation.

“And the All Star Baker this week is…Bobbi,” Izzy said, her grin wide.

Bobbi could barely hear over the buzzing in her ears as they announced the baker who’d be going home, though the devastated look on Jemma’s face tempered her joy. Hunter whooped and wrapped his arms around Bobbi, giving her a resounding kiss as the cameras swooped in.

They’d done it. They were both going to the final round.


	10. Chapter 10

The house was abuzz with activity, and Hunter would be lying if he said he wasn’t overwhelmed by it all. The camera crew from the show was flitting around, trying to find the best places in the house to film while simultaneously chattering about how they were going to separate what footage belonged to Bobbi and what belonged to Hunter. Apparently the show’s producers had never considered what would happen to the home visits if two of their contestants cohabitated. 

“Okay?” Bobbi asked, appearing at his elbow.

“Yeah.” Hunter stepped out of the way as a cameraman walked by, pausing to crouch by the kitchen counter before beginning to move again. “I’m discovering I don’t like interruptions in my routine.”

Bobbi kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“It’s not your fault.” He wound an arm around her waist. “I signed up for this, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Bobbi agreed, leaning into him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t find it difficult or stressful, does it?”

“Have you been talking to Dr. Garner?” Hunter asked, narrowing his eyes.

“...Maybe a little? Just to know the right things to say, you know?”

“I can’t believe I married the most bloody perfect woman on the planet,” Hunter sighed, placing a lingering kiss on Bobbi’s neck. “If we weren’t surrounded by people right now…” He let the sentence remain unfinished, withdrawing from his wife so he wouldn’t accidentally give her a hickey. 

“You’re not mad?”

“Gee, Bob, I’m absolutely furious that my wife wanted to talk to my therapist about how to help me. I’m seeing red, don’t you know?” Maybe she could have dealt with a little less sarcasm, but Hunter wasn’t sure how else to approach the strange, warm twisting feeling behind his sternum when he thought about Bobbi wanting to support him. They were both so much better equipped for that now, especially since he wasn’t relying just on her anymore.

Before Bobbi could respond the lead cameraman approached them, broad smile on his face. “Looks like everything’s good to go! Who’s going to be cooking dinner tonight?”

“Um, we had planned to do it together…?” Hunter asked, uncertain. 

“Great! Awesome!” The cameraman’s enthusiasm was beginning to freak Hunter out a little, and he held on tighter to Bobbi. “I’ll let you guys get to it then!”

It was much harder to forget he was being filmed in the privacy of his own kitchen, Hunter thought as he and Bobbi began to prepare their meal. He was used to there being cameras in the tent, but not in his house. He felt bumbling and awkward, even with Bobbi there to give him quiet, reassuring touches.

He had never been happier to be pulled aside for an interview - and even happier the subject of the interview wasn’t even him.

“What is your favorite thing about Bobbi?”

“I have to pick just one?”

The camerawoman smiled. “Yes, just one.”

“Bob… never gives less than her full self to anything that she tries. It can be exhausting sometimes because you just want to tell her to  _ take a damn break _ , but you know when you’re with Bobbi, she’s there all the way. She doesn’t do things because she has to, she does them because she wants to, or she believes in them. And when she believes in you… she doesn’t let you give up on yourself, because she sees your potential, and wants you to get there.” Hunter shrugged, suddenly realizing he had been rambling. “She’s just… she’s everything to me.”

“Do you think she’s going to win?”

“Of course she is.” He leaned back in his chair, suddenly relaxed. Hunter had never been so sure of anything in his life. Bobbi was going to fight tooth and nail to win this show, and whenever she put that much effort into anything, it paid off. He had gotten on her back more than once about putting more effort into their marriage for that very reason.

“Her parents didn’t seem to think so.”

Suddenly the relaxation was gone, and Hunter’s blood began to boil. He hadn’t realized they were going to interview Bobbi’s parents. She probably didn’t know they had either, which meant there was either going to be an unpleasant phone call in the near future or an uncomfortable three minutes of television where they had to watch Bobbi’s father talk about how poor of a choice the show was.

“Bob’s parents don’t know her like I do.” That was the most polite answer Hunter could give. “If they aren’t proud of her for chasing her dreams, then that’s on them, not her.”

“So, you don’t think you’re going to win?”

Hunter shrugged again. “I’d love to, but at this point I don’t really care. I have my wife back, I’ve met some amazing people, and I have more confidence in my skills than I’ve ever had. I don’t consider that a loss at all.”

The camerawoman asked a few more questions, but Hunter was distracted by Bobbi leaning against the doorframe at the entrance of the room. She was beautiful, and she was his.

Screw the competition.

\---

Bobbi dunked another plate into soapy water, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She and Hunter had offered to make the camera crew dinner as well, which had been fun, but also resulted in a  _ lot _ of dishes. Naturally Hunter had been pulled away so they couldn’t tackle the pile together. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but it was still annoying to slog through everything alone. She worked better when she had someone to work with - especially when that someone was her husband.

Luckily that plate had been her last. She dried her hands before meandering towards the living room, where a cadre of cameras were pointed at Hunter. She tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but Hunter obviously noticed her when she entered his line of sight.

_ Focus _ , she mouthed at him. It only worked for a moment before Hunter’s eyes were back on her again, and Bobbi shook her head in exasperation.

“Bobbi, if you want to go ahead and get in the shot, you can. We haven’t done a joint interview for contestants before but let’s give it the old college try!” The lead cameraman gave her a toothy grin, and Bobbi nodded. 

She considered being cheeky and settling herself in Hunter’s lap, but that probably wouldn’t go well with the show’s supposedly family-friendly vibe. Bobbi settled herself next to Hunter on the sofa instead, leaning into his side and allowing his arm to drape comfortably around her shoulders.

“Long time no see,” Hunter whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. Bobbi smiled at him. It had been thirty minutes, tops. He was such a dork.

“Now, I know we’re here to talk about the competition, but at this point in the game I’m sure everyone’s more curious about your relationship to each other. You started the show divorced, and now you’re married.” Hunter’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly around her shoulders. Bobbi laid a soothing hand on his leg, angling it so he could easily see the rings on her fingers. The memory of their time spent apart chafed, but that chapter had closed; the papers were burned and they had returned to where they belonged.

“Is that a question?” Bobbi asked smoothly, letting just a hint of her lawyer voice slip through.

“Oh, of course not! The question is… how did this love story start? How did you two meet?”

It was a clumsy save, but it was a save nonetheless. Bobbi was going to let it slide.

“He ran into me on the sidewalk.”

“ _ She _ ran into  _ me _ . She just doesn’t like admitting she was too wrapped up in her phone call to notice she was about to plow into someone.”

“I hung up the phone!”

“Yeah, after you saw how stunningly attractive I was.” Hunter winked at her. Bobbi’s cheeks felt hot, and she avoided looking at the camera. Okay, so maybe she had been a little distracted and maybe she had ended the call a little hastily when she had seen Hunter’s face, but that was just because…

She couldn’t even come up with a good excuse in the privacy of her own head. Bobbi huffed out a sigh, nuzzling into Hunter’s shoulder. “You are really attractive,” she mumbled, low enough not to be caught by the microphones.

Hunter chuckled. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Luckily for Bobbi the rest of the questions weren’t as embarrassing, and she was able to regain her composure. 

It was strange - in the tent, their relationship wasn’t explicitly acknowledged by anyone. Everyone knew it existed (except maybe Fitz, bless his heart) but the attention was on their baking, nothing else. Now the focus had shifted and Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to do. 

Luckily, answering questions as Hunter’s wife and not as his competitor was easier. She just got to gush about how amazing he was and how his love of baking inspired her and how she really,  _ really _ hoped he won. The camerapeople seemed amused by that, but wouldn’t answer her questions when she asked why, precisely, they were all smiling at her.

They left without giving her an answer, but Bobbi wasn’t particularly bothered. There were things she wanted to do with her husband she’d rather not be caught on camera.

\---

The last weekend at the tent was surprisingly laid-back, but Hunter couldn’t say he minded it. He and Bob had (miraculously, considering the events of the morning) made it with plenty of time to spare, and after they had both gone through hair and makeup there was nothing to do but sit around and chat with Davis while everything in the main tent was being prepared.

“Haley told them, quote, ‘Daddy won’t win’. Can you believe it!?”

“After the cake you made her, she thought you wouldn’t win?” Bobbi shook her head. “Kids.”

Hunter nodded along in agreement. He had been avoiding thinking about kids since the conversation in the Cape Cod parking lot - if Bobbi wasn’t ready, she wasn’t ready - but he couldn’t help but think any child of hers would have the same amount of sass to them. “What about the little bloke, what did he say?”

“My wife made me leave after Haley’s so my feelings wouldn’t get hurt.” Davis laughed. “Probably a good choice.”

“Bob wouldn’t let me eavesdrop on her, either,” Hunter commiserated. “I’m pretty sure she trash-talked me the whole time.”

“I did not.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. 

“What did you say then?” Davis asked, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“She said it’s time to go into the tent.” Izzy appeared out of nowhere, putting her hands on her hips. “And remember, you three, you’re here to bake, not chat or flirt.” She glared at Hunter on her last word, and he shrugged somewhat apologetically. He couldn’t help that Bob made it very easy to flirt with her.

“Yeah, Hunter, try hard not to flirt with me,” Davis snorted, standing up from his makeup chair. 

“You’re the one who thinks my butt’s cute, mate,” Hunter replied with a wink. That was enough to turn Bobbi a shade redder, which had been exactly Hunter’s intent.

Even once the cameras were rolling and they were baking, Hunter couldn’t quite shake the feeling that had settled over him. He was happy, well and truly happy. The thought kept slipping into his mind when he least expected it - as he was cracking an egg or when he saw Bobbi brushing her hair back from her face or even when Davis made an awful joke.

He didn’t even realize he had a stupid grin on his face until Izzy pointed it out.

“Looks like somebody’s confident,” she said, sidling up next to his station.

“Confident in my ability to come in second place, yes,” Hunter answered with a nod as he slid his pan into the oven.

“Come on, you’re not going to at least  _ try _ to win?” Izzy asked. Hunter could tell she was goading him - probably trying to get a reaction for the cameras - but it wasn’t really working. If they really wanted to push his buttons they’d need to start talking about how Bobbi was going to lose. That’d really piss him off.

“Nobody said I wasn’t trying.” Hunter wiped the back of his hand along his forehead. “But if I keep my expectations low I might just surprise myself.” He gave Izzy a winning grin. Now it seemed like he was painting himself as an underdog rather than someone who was content to let his wife have the spotlight she rightly deserved.

\---

Bobbi was stressed.

She had tried not to focus on winning the competition, she really had, but it was  _ hard.  _ It felt like everyone in her life had told her it was a bad idea to join in the first place. She had lost her damn job for this competition (okay, and for some other reasons, but for the competition too) and looking back on it now, it felt like she had given up too much. Bobbi wouldn’t say so, but there was a nagging part of her insisting she deserved to win, if only because she had given up a lot to be here in the first place. Winning seemed less and less likely though - she had done decently in the first bake, but completely flopped on the second.

Bobbi hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to win until it felt just beyond her reach.

She didn’t want to snap at Hunter about something that wasn’t his fault, so Bobbi had squirrelled herself away in their hotel room while Hunter stayed in the lobby. He was taking a phone call with Idaho, whose plane was leaving from the airport in an hour to bring him down to North Carolina for the finale picnic the next day. From what she had heard, they were having a great conversation - another reason she didn’t really want to talk with Hunter at the moment. She’d just bring him down.

The door to the room opened just as Bobbi was burying her face in her pillow. She didn’t emerge, even when Hunter flopped onto the bed next to her.

A warm hand appeared between her shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles into the bare skin there. “You alright, love?”

She counted to five before shaking her head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head again. Hunter’s hand hadn’t stopped circling her back, and she relaxed into the familiar touch and repetitive motion.

“Okay. I’m here.” Bobbi was surprised Hunter wasn’t pressing her for more, but she appreciated the space. She needed the time to sort out her thoughts in her own head before explaining them to someone else, and it had always frustrated her when he asked her what she was feeling and wouldn’t stop pushing until he got the answer he wanted.

Minutes ticked away while she got herself in order. Hunter didn’t move from her side, still hypnotically massaging her back, until Bobbi was ready to talk.

She flipped over so she was on her side, and startled momentarily at how close he was. She should’ve guessed it based on the body heat radiating off him, but she had been distracted by her thoughts. Bobbi tipped her chin down slightly so she wasn’t looking her husband in the eyes. “I really want to win.”

She had expected a scoff or two - Hunter had made it obvious he didn’t care much about winning anymore, and he probably thought it was ridiculous she was so focused on it - but they didn’t come.

“Of course you do. You put a lot of hard work into becoming a good baker and it’s normal to want to be recognized for everything you’ve accomplished.” Bobbi’s head jerked up in surprise. She met Hunter’s gaze, and all she could find in his hazel eyes was understanding. There was no derision there, or even confusion. He knew what she was feeling. “You’re talented, and driven, and creative, and absolutely spectacular. Not doing well today doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance, Bob.”

She wasn’t sure how he managed to say exactly what she needed to hear, but he did. Bobbi scooted forward, tangling herself around her husband. “Thank you.”

“For telling the truth?”

“For being here.” Neither of them had to run away from each other anymore, and with each moment that awed Bobbi more. They had really done it.

“There’s no place I’d rather be, love.” Hunter kissed the side of her head, then began to hum. From her position with her head pillowed on his chest, Bobbi could feel the humming as well as hear it. The effect was soothing, and Bobbi tucked it away in the back of her head in case she ever needed to calm Hunter down quickly. 

The air conditioning unit in the corner of the hotel room rumbled to life, interrupting Hunter’s song. Bobbi made a soft noise, encouraging him to continue. He did, but with a different song - a tune Bobbi didn’t quite remember but sounded like it could’ve come from a dream. She pulled herself closer to him, peace washing over her as Hunter’s heartbeat thudded loud and steady under her ear.

Maybe she would win tomorrow, maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, these would be the arms to hold her for the rest of her life.

\---

Hunter emerged from the tent, picnic basket stacked high with baked goods in his arms. 

It was over. He had just finished the final round of  _ All-Star Baker, _ and in thirty minutes or so he’d know whether or not he was the winner. He cared even less about winning than he had the day before, though. It was hard to want to win when he knew how much it meant to Bobbi.

His wife was carrying her own stuffed picnic basket out onto the lawn, as was Davis. Davis’s kids rushed towards him when he emerged and Bobbi made a beeline towards the knot of former contestants near the entrance to the tent, but Hunter was looking for someone in the crowd of people.

When he spotted Idaho, Hunter broke into a jog. His friend was hovering on the edge of the crowd, obviously uncomfortable with talking nice with everyone else’s friends and family. Hunter had hoped Idaho would meet Piper and they could strike up a conversation, but no dice.

“Hey!” Hunter stopped in front of Idaho, grinning. “Thanks for coming, mate.”

“As if I would miss a chance to gloat. What happened to ‘I won’t get picked’, Hunter? What happened to ‘I can barely bake anything edible’? Huh?” Idaho reached up to ruffle his hand through Hunter’s hair, and only succeeded because the basket Hunter was carrying was  _ heavy _ . Idaho looked down at it, eyebrows raised. “I love you, man, but there’s no way I’m eating all that myself.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Hunter said, rolling his eyes. “But since you’re just here to gloat, I figured I’d give you first dibs.”

Idaho rubbed his hands together, excited. “You’re going to send your wife over here too, right?”

“I’ll tell Bobbi you’re interested in eating her creations, yes.” Idaho rifled through Hunter’s basket, coming out with a bread roll, a cupcake, and a cookie. He stuffed the entire cupcake into his mouth so he’d have his hands free to grab a pastry. Hunter laughed as half the cupcake fell out of Idaho’s mouth and onto the ground, where a cluster of ants quickly began to attack it. “I’m going to go schmooze with some other people, but I’ll be back later, alright?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Talk to someone instead of just stuffing your face, will you?”

Idaho made a garbled sound that might have been agreement, but also might have been him choking on cake - Hunter wasn’t really sure. Either way his friend waved him away.

Finding his wife in the crowd was easy since she was the center of a cluster of people. Hunter wove through people until he reached her, offering baked goods as he went. His basket was considerably lighter when he finally reached the cluster of bakers. He arrived just in time to hear Bobbi cooing at Piper’s dog.

“You’re more well behaved than my husband! Yes you are!” Bobbi played with the dog’s ears, flopping them back and forth while Piper watched on, amused.

“What’s this about your husband?” Hunter asked, raising his eyebrows. Bobbi looked up at him, and had the good grace to look sheepish.

“He’s amazing and handsome and should definitely give me one of his bacon bread rolls?” Bobbi lunged for the basket, but Hunter whisked it away before she could grab hold.

“Why should he do that?”

“Because I love him very very much?” 

“And because you don’t want to sleep on the couch tonight?” Piper added, smiling.

Hunter relented, holding the basket out to Bobbi so she could take what she wanted. “Bob wouldn’t couch me tonight anyways,” he told Piper. “There’s either going to be a lot of mopey cuddling or -”

“I don’t want to hear the end of that sentence,” Piper interrupted. Hunter stuck his tongue out at her, and she stuck hers out back.

“I’m confused,” Phil said bluntly. “Did I miss something? I thought you two,” he pointed at Bobbi, who was happily munching on her roll, then at Hunter, “were divorced.”

“Technically, we never officially divorced. Papers never got submitted,” Bobbi said around her mouthful of bread.

“So yeah, I missed something.” Phil nodded to himself.

“Not as much as Fitz did,” Daisy teased. “He still thinks Bobbi and Hunter are friends.”

“Well, he also thinks he and Jemma are still friends,” Piper muttered.

“Cut the kid some slack,” Mack said. “He’s got his heart in the right place.”

“Not my circus, not my monkey.” Hunter shrugged. If Fitz and Jemma wanted to shack up, great. If not, that wasn’t on him, either. He had enough to do in his own life without meddling in someone else's. Hunter set down his basket as Bobbi finished the last of her bread, reaching his hand out for her. “Bob and I promised Davis we’d meet his kids, so we’ll be back.” Bobbi twined her fingers through his so they wouldn’t get separated, and they plunged once again into the fray.

While he was worming his way between people, Hunter noticed Idaho talking to Izzy out of the corner of his eye. Bobbi squeezed his hand, indicating she had seen them, too. That friendship was going to be the death of him - two of the only people in the world who would call him on his bullshit, brought together by the forces of cake and evil. Mostly cake.

They reached the Davis family just in time to be bowled over by five-year-old Haley. The girl wrapped herself around Bobbi’s legs, octopus-like and giggling like a fiend.

“Daddy!” Haley called, drawing out the last syllable. “Look who I caught!”

Davis looked up from where he was feeding his older son bits of a cookie, a smile breaking out on his face. “Hey! You guys got through your socializing quickly.”

“I told my parents not to come, and Idaho doesn’t like talking as much as he likes eating,” Bobbi laughed. “Honestly, you all probably want to see us more than Idaho does, anyways.” Idaho was going to see them practically every day for the foreseeable future - Davis didn't have that guarantee.

“He does want to try your stuff,” Hunter said absentmindedly. Haley had moved on from clinging to Bobbi and was now making a valiant effort to climb his leg. Hunter bent down, lifting her onto his hip. Haley laughed, delighted and probably on a sugar high.

“Well, you’ve met the monster,” Davis gestured towards his daughter still on Hunter’s hip. “This is Lucas,” Bobbi waved at the toddler, who waved back delightedly, “and my wife is feeding the baby. She’ll be back soon.”

On cue, a woman with long brunette hair appeared from the crowd and settled herself on the picnic blanket, a wide-eyed baby in her arms. 

“This is my wife, Lauren, and our youngest, Jessie,” Davis finished. “Family, this is Bobbi and Hunter.”

“I thought you were kidding about the cute butts, hon.” Lauren’s eyes sparkled as Davis flushed, and Hunter couldn’t help the chuckle. Haley, not one to be left out, started giggling too, and then her brother joined them.

“Daddy said you helped with the dinosaur cake! It was so cool!” Haley exclaimed when her laughter had died down. She began chattering to Bobbi, still on Hunter’s hip. Bobbi smiled at him over her head, and Hunter was so caught up in the happiness of the moment he forgot he was waiting on the results for the most important competition in his life.

\---

“Let’s have a baby.”

“What?”

In hindsight, Bobbi probably could have started the conversation at a better place and more opportune time. But she had started it here and now, when they were about three steps away from Davis’s family and about to get news of who won the show.

“I want to have a baby. Specifically, your baby.” The thought hadn’t truly left her head since he had mentioned it in the parking lot. Hell, even before that Bobbi had been distracted by the idea of a child with Hunter. She kept telling herself it was too much, too soon, but she couldn’t avoid it anymore. Watching him with Davis’s kids had been surreal, and the whole time she hadn’t been able to stop asking herself what it would be like if it was their daughter on his hip, their son he was trying to make laugh, their baby he was playing peekaboo with. He was going to be an amazing father and she wanted to be there for it.

“Like, now?” Hunter’s eyes were wide.

“Not  _ now _ since we’re surrounded by cameras and you’re not  _ that _ much of an exhibitionist -”

“I mean, not in a year or two. Like,  _ now _ now.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll get pregnant that quickly, but I mean start trying now.” Hunter’s eyes were glued to her face, confusion and joy swirling just beneath their surface.

He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. Bobbi sighed into his mouth, relief flooding her. She hadn’t expected him to say no, not with the way he had looked the last time the subject was brought up, but a part of Bobbi still worried she was asking too much of him too quickly. He would tell her if they were going too fast, though. Bobbi had to trust him to do that.

Hunter withdrew, smiling. “Tonight I am going to ravish you. And then again tomorrow morning. And again -”

Bobbi cut him off with another quick kiss. “I look forward to it.” Heat that had nothing to do with the sunlight streaming down was flooding through her, but she ignored it - she had to, because Melinda and Robbie were walking out of the tent, bearing news.

They made their way to the front of the crowd, Davis just behind them. When the three of them were lined up and the cameras were in place, Melinda cleared her throat.

“The past ten weeks, you all have shown remarkable talent and creativity. There were ups and downs, but overall, many,  _ many _ breathtaking bakes. This was by no means an easy decision, because all three of you are amazing bakers.”

“All that said,” Robbie stepped forward to be at Melinda’s side, “we did have to choose the winner. The winner of the All-Star Bakeoff is… Davis.”

Time stopped.

Oddly, her first thought was to turn to her left, where Davis was standing, and wrap him in a tight hug. He hugged her back just as tightly, and for that one moment, Bobbi felt like she could breathe right.

When Davis let her go, time started again in a sickening crunch.

She had lost.

This had all been for nothing. The last ten weeks of agonizing over every detail, trying to escape her office for time in the kitchen, spending hours and hours slaving over a hot oven, worrying herself sick about whether she would make it through or not - it was all for nothing.

“Bob?” 

No, not for nothing. Bobbi ducked into Hunter’s arms, muffling her first sob into his shoulder. He was hot and sticky with sweat, but he was her husband still, and he was there. She clung to him - there was nothing else she could do. 

Shock coursed through her when another body wrapped around hers. The impossibly long arms could only belong to Davis. Whatever shock she had felt doubled, then tripled, growing ever larger as more and more people joined the throng. Mack’s strong chest was behind her, and the scent of Daisy’s floral perfume drifted into her nose, too. Even through the mess of bodies she could spy the garish pattern of Phil’s shirt, and a soft word murmured in Spanish was her sign Elena was there. A cold nose pressed into her leg - Piper and her dog had joined the hug. Rough hands smoothed over her hair - Trip. Accented voices reached her ears, and even though she couldn’t feel Fitz or Simmons, Bobbi knew they were there. Everyone except Grant, who had been unceremoniously uninvited from the finale picnic, was in one large group hug.

Bobbi was still clinging onto her husband, but her eyes had dried up. How could she be sad when she was surrounded by so many wonderful people, who had all noticed when she was feeling bad and wanted her to feel better? That was more than most people in her life did, even the people she had known for much longer than ten weeks.

Bobbi let out a soft, contented sigh. She had learned so much in the past two and a half months, about both baking and life. There was one lesson she learned that applied to both areas, though. 

The secret ingredient? It was always love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, this is the second update for today! If you haven't read Chapter 10 yet, this might not make much sense. :)

“That’s it,” Hunter said, stunned. “That’s the last of them.” He flipped the lock on the doors. 

“Thank god,” Piper said, slumping over the counter. 

Bobbi reached out to take Hunter’s hand and he laced their fingers together. “We did it,” she said, sounding awed. 

The early afternoon sunlight was filtering in through the front windows, where a huge ‘Grand Opening’ had been painted, throwing shadows across the tiny tables they’d crammed into the room. A hand carved sign bearing the name Mockingbird’s was swaying gently in the breeze outside, and the bird motif continued inside with wall decorations and artwork. They’d even found some brightly colored bird-themed wallpaper to put up in the tiny bathroom. He loved every inch of it. 

“We did,” Hunter said. He could still barely believe it. Just a few short months ago, he’d been struggling to pick up the pieces of a life he’d thought irrevocably shattered and now here he was, in the tiny converted house-turned-bakery he owned, alongside his brilliant, beautiful wife. He’d have thought any part of that sentence sounded like a fever dream this time last year. 

But somehow, it was all true. 

Hunter tugged Bobbi into an embrace, and she tucked her head against his throat, sagging against him. “Tired?” he murmured. She shook her head, even though her whole demeanor said otherwise, and he smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Who would have thought we could actually pull it off?” Bobbi said. 

“Last I checked, pretty much everyone we knew,” Hunter chuckled. “You tend to inspire confidence.” 

“I changed my mind,” Piper said, her voice muffled. “You guys are crazy.” 

Bobbi laughed, her body shaking in Hunter’s arms, and he felt the day’s tension draining away. She was happy, and he was a part of it. They might have gotten up at the crack of dawn, but he wouldn’t have traded a single moment of the hectic, busy opening for another minute’s sleep. 

“Let’s get this place cleaned up,” Bobbi said straightening. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow.” 

Piper groaned and picked up her head. “Damn it, I knew we should have taken Davis up on his free child labor offer.”

“Yes, because I’m looking to have my business license taken away on the first day,” Bobbi said. 

“We could get Haley a fake mustache,” Piper mused. 

“Hang on,” Hunter said, holding up a hand. “This is a big moment. We should celebrate.” He pulled out a chair and directed Bobbi into it while she rolled her eyes and Piper watched, amused, her chin propped on one hand. “Piper, grab the bottle on the bottom shelf of the cooler, would you?” 

Piper’s eyes lit up and she ducked down, coming up with a wine bottle and a frown. “Hey, this isn’t even real champagne.” 

“Again, business license,” Bobbi called. 

Hunter squished past Piper to grab three paper cups, stacked neatly by their brand new, entirely-too-fancy espresso machine, and winked. “Don’t want to get fired on my first day.” 

Piper snorted. “I think your job is safe, boss.”

“Come on,” Hunter tugged her out from behind the counter. They joined Bobbi at the table and Hunter popped open the sparkling cider, filling their glasses before lifting his in a toast. “To an amazing day,” he said. 

Bobbi lifted hers, too. “The first of many,” she added, and Hunter leaned in to kiss her while Piper sighed loudly. A ringing phone interrupted them, and he sat up again, lifting an eyebrow while Piper fumbled to answer her cell. 

“Hey babe,” Piper said, smiling. She relaxed back against her chair as Hunter knocked his paper cup gently against his wife’s and took a sip of cider. ‘Daisy’ Piper mouthed as though Hunter and Bobbi hadn’t already guessed. “Yeah, we survived. Barely. How was your day?” Piper pushed her chair away from the table and got up, making a beeline for the back room. 

Hunter topped off Bobbi’s cup and then his own, feeling exhaustion creeping up on him. “My feet are killing me,” Bobbi sighed.

“Mine too.” 

“We should double the batch of bacon scones for tomorrow,” she said, her forehead crinkling. “They sold out in like ten minutes.” 

“Your s’mores brownies, too. Not bad for the runners-up of _All-Star Baker_, is it?” 

“Hush,” Bobbi said. “No one knows that yet. As of last week’s episode, we’re finalists.” 

Hunter chuckled. “You ready for the crowd to descend?” 

“I can’t wait.”

\---

Bobbi sat hunched at her desk, squinting at the spreadsheet in front of her. She had been trying to figure out their next orders from the bakery supply store for what felt like hours, and the numbers were beginning to swim. She needed to get it done tonight to be able to know what their profit margin for the month was, though, and without knowing the profit margin she couldn’t figure out whether or not they were on track to add another full-time employee at the new year.

“Knock knock.” Hunter’s voice came barely louder than a whisper, and Bobbi twisted to see him leaning against the doorframe. “You coming to bed?”

“Just a minute.” She turned back to her spreadsheet, and the numbers seemed a little less fuzzy after her brief break. “I want to get this done.”

“Bob, it’s past midnight.” She could tell Hunter was trying to keep the disapproval out of his voice, but he was failing. Bobbi glanced down at the computer’s clock - there was no way midnight could have come and gone without her noticing! - and bit her lip when she saw it was quarter past.

“I’ll be up as soon as I finish. Promise.” She beckoned Hunter for a quick kiss and tried not to think about how much nicer a bed would be than her office chair. Bobbi turned back to the spreadsheet as Hunter’s footsteps receded, determined to finish as quickly as possible.

It ended up taking another twenty minutes for her to get everything sorted, but at least it was one less thing to do in the morning. Bobbi had to all but drag herself to the bedroom, and flung herself onto the mattress with a grunt.

She prodded Hunter with her foot and watched the muscles in his back ripple as his shoulders tensed, then relaxed. God bless her husband for sleeping in just his boxers. “You awake?” 

No response. Bobbi frowned. She knew he wasn’t sleeping yet - his breaths weren’t the low, slow sounds that had become her lullaby in recent months - but he hadn’t answered. “Hunter?” she asked, a little louder.

He rolled over to face her. “Yeah?”

Bobbi took in the tension in his jaw and the tiniest furrow in his brow, and her heart sank. “You’re angry.”

“I’m upset,” he corrected. “We can talk about it in the morning.” He seemed ready to turn back over again, but Bobbi reached out to stop him.

“Can we?” She trailed a hand down his arm. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

Hunters lips thinned into a line, and he was obviously debating whether to answer her or let it drop. Finally, he decided on the former. “I’m upset that you’re taking so many late nights.” He paused, but Bobbi gave him time to think and add more if he wanted to. “I appreciate you’re trying to do what you think is best for the bakery, but I’m trying to do what’s best for you, and I don’t think this is it.”

Bobbi bit back her initial angry retort. She understood what Hunter was saying, even if she didn’t entirely agree with it. “This is our dream - I’m just trying to chase it.” She winced - she hadn’t meant to imply Hunter wasn’t also working towards their dream, but it almost seemed that way.

“This isn’t my dream.” Ice cold fear spilled through Bobbi’s veins, until - “A life with you is my dream, love. The bakery’s just the cherry.” He inched closer to her, not stopping until he could rest his forehead against hers. “I don’t want the same thing to happen as last time. And I know this is different,” he added before she could argue working for Gonzales and working at the bakery were entirely separate endeavors, “but just because you love what you do doesn’t mean you won’t burn out eventually.”

As much as Bobbi hated to admit it, her husband did have a point. Once upon a time she had been happy to be a lawyer, and then one day she had looked around and realized she was miserable. She didn’t want that to happen with Mockingbird’s - she didn’t want another dream down the toilet.

“It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” Hunter nudged their noses together. “And you need rest.”

Shame settled low in Bobbi’s belly, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at Hunter’s. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hunter murmured, wrapping his arms around her and chasing away some of her guilt. “I fell in love with you because you never settled for second-best. I just want you to remember that maybe you deserve the best in more than just your work.”

“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?”

Hunter hummed his approval. “That and my amazing penis.”

“You had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?” She wasn’t upset, though. If anything, Bobbi was glad for the distraction. They were getting better at the hard conversations with each passing day, but it still felt strange to end them without someone storming out of the room.

“I was just making sure someone didn’t start blubbering about how much she loves me.”

“That was one time!”

“I know.” Hunter smiled, and Bobbi swore it lit up the whole bedroom. The light from it settled somewhere in her chest, as soft and comforting as Hunter’s fingers tracing idle shapes on her back. “But I loved it, because I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She let him pull her flush against his chest, twisting their legs together and tucking her chin over his shoulder so they wouldn’t be so easily separated in the night. “Sleep tight.”

“With you in my arms? Always.”

___

“Anyone here yet?” Hunter jogged the last few steps between him and Bobbi, looking around the arrivals area to see if he found any familiar faces.

“None yet,” she confirmed, sliding an arm around his waist in a half-hug. “Did you find parking okay?”

“Yeah.” Hunter kissed the top of his wife’s head absently. Parking the bakery van in the airport parking garage had been a nightmare, but it was the only vehicle they owned that could possibly fit everyone they were supposed to drive back from the airport. Everyone had insisted they could just call a cab to get to their hotel, but it seemed stupid to allow them to do that when Bobbi and Hunter were going to be there anyways to pick up Izzy, who was going to crash with them instead of at a hotel.

“Mack and Elena’s flight has supposedly already landed,” Bobbi said, pointing to the arrivals board. Hunter scanned it. Fitz and Simmons’s flight was twenty minutes out, and Trip’s was another half-hour after that. Davis’s plane didn’t have an estimated arrival time, but it had left two hours ago, so Hunter hoped it would be here soon. Daisy was already in Massachusetts since she had come a week earlier to spend time with Piper, which meant they were only waiting to hear from Phil and Izzy.

“You want to find a place to sit while we wait?” Hunter asked.

Bobbi glared at him. “Are you implying I can’t stand for an hour?”

“I’m implying that no human being, even my hellbeast wife, _ enjoys _ standing for an hour.” Hunter rolled his eyes. Sometimes his wife was a little too preoccupied with seeming capable to remember she was just a human like the rest of them.

Bobbi wiggled out of his grasp, and Hunter was preparing his apology when he realized she wasn’t trying to escape him - she was trying to get to someone else. Mack and Elena had appeared across the terminal, and Bobbi seemed determined to beat him there. Hunter didn’t mind. He kept his pace sedate, and only reached the duo after Bobbi had given them both enthusiastic hugs in greeting.

“Hey, mate. How was your flight?” 

Mack clasped Hunter’s hand in a warm handshake. “Not bad. Speedy over here was vibrating the whole time, though,” Mack said, smiling fondly at Elena.

“_Yo estaba emocionado_!” Elena defended. “It’s been too long.”

That, at least, was true. Filming had ended over two months ago and the only people Hunter had seen since then were Piper, Bobbi, and Izzy. Getting the gang back together, even if it was only for a few days, was going to be great.

Elena pulled Hunter into a quick hug before trotting off to the baggage carousel to retrieve her and Mack’s things. Hunter raised an eyebrow; it didn’t take long for them to start sharing suitcases.

Mack shrugged unapologetically. “She likes to move fast. Can’t say I have a problem with it.” And really, was Hunter one to judge? Five months ago he had been filing for a divorce, and now he was happily married to that same woman. Bobbi had tucked herself into his side again, and Hunter placed a gentle kiss on her temple. He wasn’t going to let go of what he had, not for anything.

When Mack and Elena’s suitcase had been picked up, Hunter volunteered to take it back to the van so they could wait with Bobbi for Fitz and Simmons’s flight to arrive. A time had also popped up by Davis’s plane, smack in between Fitzsimmons and Trip’s. 

Everyone seemed to come in a rush after that, and Hunter spent most of his time giving quick hellos before being sent to the van again with another load of luggage. It probably would have been easier for him just to wait curbside, but then he wouldn’t have been able to hug everyone, and… Hunter liked hugs. Correction: he liked hugs from people he liked, and all his All Star Baker co-stars (with the exception of Grant) were people he more than liked. They were kind of like his family, but less shitty.

When there was a lull in the arrivals before Phil got in, Hunter took a moment to take everything in. Bobbi was glowing as she and Trip had an animated conversation, and everyone else was buzzing with excitement and catching up on their lives since they had parted. They were getting a few weird looks from others in the airport, who probably weren’t used to such a hodge-podge group of people getting along so well, but it hardly mattered.

Hunter’s phone buzzed in his pocket with a message from Izzy. _ See you soon. _

His heart crawled up into his throat. Of everyone he had missed, it was actually Izzy whose loss he had felt the most. They still talked almost daily, about PTSD and baking and everything in between. She listened to his shit and he listened to hers, and somewhere along the way she had become one of his best friends, second only to Idaho - and Bob, of course, but Hunter felt strange counting his wife under a list of friends, when the two things were different.

Phil and Izzy ended up arriving around the same time; most of the bakers chose to crowd Phil (who was mysteriously holding an entire pineapple), but Hunter walked over to Izzy, hands shoved in his pockets.

“What, no hug?” she asked. For all the no-nonsense exterior, Izzy was a real softie inside - kind of like Bobbi. Hunter wrapped her in a tight hug, sighing a little when she hugged him back. 

“Group hug!” someone shouted. Hunter lifted his head up, trying to find Bobbi and make sure she wouldn’t be crushed in the mass of people, but it was too late. This group hug was a bit more chaotic than the one at the end of the picnic, but there was so much happiness and laughter that the chaos wasn’t a big deal.

“Okay, okay,” Izzy grunted. “Come here, you all. I promised the production team I’d get a photo of you together. Line up.” She continued barking orders to make sure everyone was standing appropriately and smiling - _ yes, Fitz, you have to smile _ \- but her wrangling skills weren’t legendary for nothing. She snapped a few photos, and that was their cue to get headed out to the van. 

Hunter insisted on carrying Izzy’s bag for her, claiming it was because their trunk was like a game of Tetris. That was true, but he also liked the fondly exasperated smile she gave him a bit too much for his own good, and wanted to do anything in his power to make her give another one.

Stuffing a dozen people and a dozen bags was a tight squeeze, even for the van, but the laughter filling the tiny space was worth it.

___

“No, put that over-” Bobbi sighed as her instructions were lost in the din. She supposed it didn’t really matter. Nobody was here to judge her on presentation or flavors (though everything tasted delicious, thank you very much) and best of all, everyone really seemed to be enjoying the theme. 

“Look at how cute and tiny these are!” Jemma exclaimed, picking up a colorful cupcake dotted with sprinkles. “Oh, Mack, these are yours.” 

Mack picked one up and popped it into his mouth, then caught Bobbi watching and grinned. 

“Mine are better,” he called.

“Not according to Melinda May!” Bobbi called back. 

Mack clutched his chest and exaggeratedly stumbled. “Brutal, Bobbi, brutal.” He reached out and sympathetically patted Hunter’s shoulder. “I don’t know how you win any arguments.” 

“Oh, I’m always wrong,” Hunter replied, shooting Bobbi a wink. 

Piper clinked her glass, filled with actual champagne this time, until most of the chatter died down. “Phil,” she said, almost loud enough to compete with the shirt Phil was wearing. “Would you do the honors?”

Phil cleared his throat. “This is your ten-minute warning, bakers!” he said, then beamed as laughter rippled through the room. 

“I found Phil’s!” Daisy held up a muffin with a swirl of cream cheese frosting. “Tropical carrot cake.”

“Is there pineapple?” Phil asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Phil, please,” Hunter snorted. “Of course there’s pineapple.”

“Good man,” Phil slapped him on the back and hurried in Daisy’s direction as Bobbi sidled up to her husband. 

“Everyone’s having a good time?” she asked, looking around the room. Their new living room wasn’t huge, but no one seemed to care much, sharing chairs and ottomans and crowding around the table holding all the desserts.

“Everyone’s having a great time,” Hunter assured her, sliding an arm around her waist. 

A raucous chorus of laughter arose from a knot of people with Trip at the center, underscoring his point, and Bobbi tried to relax. “I’m nervous,” she confessed. 

“Everyone here already knows who wins,” Hunter said. 

Bobbi elbowed him. “You know what I mean.” 

“Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed, holding up one of Hunter’s newest creations. “Earl grey biscuits!” 

“Everything’s so tiny and cute,” Elena said, closely examining a savory puff. “Is this a pandebono?” She popped it in her mouth and a blissful expression crossed her face. “Mack, try these, _ esta como para chuparse los dedo_.” 

“Okay, you know my Spanish isn’t that advanced yet,” Mack laughed, taking the puff Elena offered him.

“I think,” Hunter murmured into her ear, “it’s going to be perfect.” 

“Hey!” Davis exclaimed. “Babe, these are the brownies I was telling you about.” 

He handed one over to his wife and Lauren bit into it. A moment later, she met Bobbi’s eyes. “Forgiveness brownies,” she said worshipfully. 

Happiness bubbled up inside of Bobbi as Hunter stifled a laugh against her shoulder and she nodded, struggling to keep her expression serious. 

Daisy and Piper were fiddling with the television, trying to find the right channel, and Hunter went to join them, though Bobbi wasn’t alone for long. “Thanks for the invitation,” Izzy said.

“Thanks for coming,” Bobbi replied. “You caused quite a stir on opening day at Mockingbird’s.” 

Izzy lifted a shoulder. “Not really used to that yet. I tell you what though, you would not believe the number of recipes people on the street give me.” 

“When do you start filming again?” 

“Next spring. Although there’s talk of a holiday special. Too bad you guys went pro, you’re fan favorites you know.”

“I can’t believe they kept in so much of the stupid mushy stuff I said.” 

“I think Hunter beats you in the mushy department.” 

“He always does,” Bobbi said, watching her husband poke at the speakers he’d set up. She tilted her head as he bent over and then laughed when he peeked over his shoulder, smirking in her direction. Davis wolf-whistled from the back of the room and Piper was laughing so hard her face was red. “Well, usually.”

Every once in a while, usually right after the alarm woke her and before the sun was even up, Bobbi would contemplate where she would be now if she hadn’t walked away from her old life. This wasn’t anything like she’d pictured her future, once upon a time. She was supposed to be an important, respected lawyer just like her father, who didn’t end up with flour in her hair and had no time for frivolous things like informal parties and inside jokes. 

She would have been absolutely miserable. 

“I hope you’re ready for this,” Izzy said. “It’s going to be a madhouse.” 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bobbi said, smiling. 

“It’s starting!” Daisy squealed as the logo for All-Star Bakeoff appeared on the television screen. “Hunter, come on, turn it up!” She smacked his arm and Hunter huffed, making one final adjustment while people drifted to find seats, balancing plates of finger foods. 

One armchair miraculously remained free, and Bobbi headed in that direction, only to discover Hunter had taped a piece of paper with her name on it to the cushion. She plucked it off and held it aloft as he wove through the crush of people gathered in their living room, grinning. “Had to reserve it somehow, didn’t I?” he whispered. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Thank you.” He sat down and pulled her into his lap just as everyone let out a whoop and the screen showed three bakers—her, Hunter and Davis—crossing the lawn for the final time. 

“I can’t believe it’s over,” she said quietly. 

“We’ve got a lot to look forward to.” 

“No, I mean, I never would have imagined this was where we’d end up.” 

Hunter pressed his lips against her shoulder. “I’m glad we did.”

“Me too.” 

“Bobbi!” Jemma let out a scandalized gasp as television-Bobbi patted television-Hunter’s butt in passing, making him nearly spill a bowl of icing. “I think that counts as sabotage.” 

“No way,” Daisy said. “That’s just a good, old-fashioned distraction technique.” 

“You are a distraction technique,” Piper snorted. 

“Thank you,” Daisy beamed. 

The rest of the hour flew by, with everyone gradually quieting down until the picnic scene, when Davis’s win was announced. The cheers in the living room nearly drowned out the ones on the television, and Bobbi’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. It was bittersweet, celebrating the end of something that had made such a huge impact on her life. From the way Hunter was clutching her, he was feeling the same way. 

Still, there would always be more to celebrate. 

“It’s us!” Davis exclaimed as a photo Izzy had taken at the airport popped up on the screen, with a ‘Where Are They Now’ banner under it. 

Izzy’s voice was narrating the snippets of everyone’s daily lives, from Jemma and Fitz showing the cameras their new apartment’s kitchen to Mack surprising Elena at work with homemade donuts. Bobbi grasped Hunter’s hand, squeezing it tight as Trip gave everyone a winning smile from the television screen and then, finally the front doors of Mockingbird’s appeared. 

“Inspired by their success, two of our own have started a bakery,” Izzy’s voice blared from the television speakers. “After reconnecting, Hunter and Bobbi decided to open Mockingbird’s, and that’s not all they’re cooking up.”

The television was showing the interior of their bakery, and Bobbi still remembered the heat of the lights they’d set up to film this last little bit. The cameras focused on her nervous expression as she glanced over at Hunter, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “You want to say it?” Hunter asked on the television. 

Bobbi shook her head. “Go ahead,” she said in response. 

Hunter cleared his throat. “Bob’s got a bun in the oven.” On screen, Bobbi’s head dropped onto her hand, and Hunter grinned, unrepentant, until she nudged him. 

“I’m pregnant,” television-Bobbi clarified.

In the living room, a dozen heads swiveled in Bobbi and Hunter’s direction, and then Trip stood up, his arms open wide. “Girl!” he exclaimed. 

“You guys!” Daisy shrieked, scrambling up from the couch, and then, suddenly, Bobbi was surrounded. “Congratulations,” Daisy said, hugging her tight. “Oh, man, Piper knew something was up, but we couldn’t figure out what!” 

Bobbi let out a laugh. She almost felt like she was floating, she was so happy, and she tightened her grip on Hunter’s hand. “We were hoping it would be a nice surprise.” 

Daisy pulled back, her eyes shiny with tears. “This is amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Bobbi said, swiping at her cheeks. “Me too.” 

Hunter tugged her closer and she hid her face against his shoulder, trying to pull herself together. Their friends gathered around to celebrate, their voices happy and bright, while the credits scrolled by on the television in the background. 

It was the end of an era, but maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something even more wonderful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to everyone who's stuck with us this far. It's been a wild ride from when this idea was conceived almost a year ago to now, and we couldn't have done it alone. Our thanks to [Ness (agentmmayy)](https://agentmmayy.tumblr.com/) and [sunalso](https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com/) for their friendship and support (and their willingness to listen to us talk about baking more than any two humans probably should). 
> 
> Lots of love (it's the secret ingredient!),  
Al (lazyfish) and Elle (Gort)


End file.
